Lessons
by Otter Child
Summary: Vignettes chronicling the first year of Jenny's life with her father. An impulsive young girl has a lot to learn. And so does an reckless man who thought he knew it all.
1. Starting

**Starting**

Jenny's eyes popped open. It was dark. She was in the dark.

And yet she wasn't on edge. She felt…safe.

Where was she?

She sat up. The mat beneath her gave, soft and warm to the touch. She could just lay back and fall asleep…but curiosity pulled her into a sitting position.

A dim glow suffused the room. Creamy plush carpeting. A small wooden set of drawers. And the high, thick mat she was lying on. It was perfectly still. And yet she could swear that something was humming.

_Singing._

The memory clicked.

Her father's ship. She was on her father's ship. She leapt to her feet. Slipping on her boots, she ran to the door of the room, pushing it open, and took off down the corridor. Her feet clattered against the smooth bronze floor. The corridor twisted, right, left-was she going the right way?-and then there was a door in front of her. Half excited, half apprehensive, she pushed it open.

The huge-control room?-was on the other side, half lit in amber and blue-green. The console hummed, drawing her closer. She caught sight of her father, working on one of the controls. For a moment, she froze, observing him. He stood tall and straight, dark eyes fixed on his work. His hands moved with a quick delicacy over the controls. His hands were long, thin and pale. Like hers.

His eyes suddenly shot up, meeting hers so fast that it startled her.

"Morning!" He exclaimed, "How'd you sleep? Room all right?"  
Jenny nodded, stepping onto the grating that surrounded the console."Fine. Perfect. Only I'm not sure if I'll be able to find it again."

"Oh," he drawled, checking another control, "No worries about that. The TARDIS won't let you get lost, 'least not at first for sure. You slept through the trip, by the way. We've landed in Crisprarax."

Jenny's blue-black eyes widened.

"Really?"

"Yup. But I thought you ought to get a bit of sleep. Too young to be skimping on your shuteye, you, and we can always spare three hours or so."

He stepped away from the console, and looked her up and down.

"You slept in those, didn't you?"

Jenny glanced down at her clothes. "I did."

"Don't you have a change of clothes?"

"One."

The Doctor gave her a look that was equal parts surprise, commiseration and scrutiny.

"Wardrobe. Definitely that first. Not having you walking into the City of The Lighthearted looking like a ragamuffin. So, first trip, after you change your clothes. What sort of stuff do you like?"

He stood, hands in pockets, his eyes on her. For a second, all Jenny could do was grin.

_My father. I'm going to step on to this planet with my father. I really am._

"Everything all right?" He asked. Jenny nodded, her white-blonde hair swinging.

"Oh yes. Everything's…great."

Crisprarax was everything Jenny had ever heard about it; a legend come to life, a dream made real. They spent their first day together walking the streets, seeing the sights. They tried everything, ate things Jenny had never heard of. Usually she was watching her credits on planet hops. But her father seemed to come up with all the money they needed. He was so different now. The first two times she'd met him they'd been under fire. Now, without a threat to face, he strolled beside her, talking, talking constantly, a grin on his face as he told her a little about everything they saw.

As the sun set they swam in a phosphorescent sea that left their skin glowing lightly. Late in the evening, they clattered back into the TARDIS, laughing together. They parted at their doors, the Doctor telling her to get a pair of pajamas on. "We'll have tea in our jim-jam's b'fore bed, then! You'll love tea, Jenny! Lovely stuff! Get a move on!"

Even later, Jenny fell onto her mat grinning, pulling the covers up to her chin. In four years on her own, Jenny had kept her guard up. She had watched for danger wherever she traveled. She had been careful and frugal. She had been alone. Not anymore.

This had been the most perfect day in her life. And of her future, it was just the first.


	2. Travel Plans

**Travel Plans**

A list had begun to compile in the Doctor's head. Places _not_ to take Jenny. It ticked by as he ran.

Anywhere where they didn't appreciate questions. Jenny asked a _lot _of questions. She had spent her first day with him inquiring. She went a good bit beyond forthright. And she did have to walk up to the most alarming individuals.

Anywhere they had any sort of rules about concealed weapons. She always had something on her somewhere. He'd learned that yesterday, when she managed to produce a knife from a bathing suit, neatly slicing open the melon they'd been served. How she fit it, where she fit it, he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Victorian England. She'd cause a scandal, being that she couldn't pull off demure for more than a nanosecond.

Sixteenth-century anywhere. She would never accept being treated as lower because she happened to be a girl. Not that he blamed her, but….

The Middle East, any time before 2200. Same reason.

And that was just Earth. His trainers slapped against the granite flagstones as he ran. They'd been running for a mile, literally. Almost three kilometers. Surely the guards were getting tired.

"Father! Down here!"

He skidded into the alley way, barreling after his daughter. Why, why had he brought her to a planet where all females were supposed to be covered? She asked so many questions before they stepped out, why hadn't she listened when he said she should wear a scarf? And _why_ did she have to punch the city guard who tried to arrest her? He could have explained that they were tourists, everything would have been fine, but no, she'd lashed out instead. Four days, four days they'd been traveling, and the second planet he takes her to she gets them in a fight.

Kalakaran. Women on that planet were supposed to be silent. Um, no, not likely.

Geurra Nine. Women warriors were prized on that planet, and she'd get snapped up by a fighting order in no time. She'd _love _that.

Kalonian Ru. Bad idea all round.

There was a passageway. There was the TARDIS. There was Jenny, waiting at the door, holding a fighting stance. Her face was perfectly blank, pale as marble. _Why is she just standing there?!_

He shot his ship a mental command, unlocking the doors.

"Jenny, get inside! Now!"

She whirled, pushed against the door. A javelin zipped by on his left. The next one-he anticipated it, jumping in mid sprint. It whizzed underneath him. He threw himself through the door. Closed it. Locked it. _Safe!_

Chests heaving, father and daughter leaned with their backs to the door.

"That was…" Jenny gasped, "that was…"

_Terrifying. Really, really not necessary. And-_

"Great!"

"Great?!" Gasping, the Doctor turned his head, staring at Jenny. She was grinning, breathing between her teeth. "Did you say 'great'?!"

"Yeah! That…was…_so_ great. I haven't run like that in…. months!"

"Great?!"

Jenny glanced up at him, her grin fading a bit at the look on her father's face.

"Did I do something…wrong?"

"Yes! Jenny, by attacking...you made a simple situation both difficult and…dangerous! You could have got us… stuck in jail or…speared through! New rule, okay? Talk first, strike last! Wait until _after_ we try talking! Okay?"

Jenny nodded. "Yes, sir." She opened her mouth-but whatever she was about to say was cut off as the door rattled behind her. Something heavy had just hit it. Her eyes widened.

"We need to-"

Her father stepped away from the door, walking up the ramp. "No worries. Not much can get through those doors. Now, where to take you. Where to take you. Come up here and hold these three controls. Something non-life-threatening…"

All right. New list. Where _to _take Jenny. She loved to exercise, he knew that much. Where could she do that safely.

Woman Wept? Boring.

Rome? Not going back there for at _least_ another twenty years.

Asheshen? Maybe a little later, after she'd learned a bit of mental control.

Pictures flipped past in his mind as he absently flicked another switch. Then the image hit him like a bolt.

"Ah! Marathon on Hasl Nine! Up for more running, Jenny? There's this race, three miles through some of the most beautiful countryside you'll ever see, with their three moons shining down on you, and at the end you jump into this absolutely amazing lake. Sound all right?"

"What's a marathon for?" Jenny asked, keeping an eye on the door as she moved up the ramp. Her father glanced around the time rotor at her.

"For? Not everything has to be _for _something. People do a lot of things for the experience of it. 'S why I travel. You run a marathon to feel the wind in your face, feel your body in motion, see what it can handle. It's for the pure beauty of it. You're running for the finish line, and it's fun because for once you're not running away from anything. Interested?"

Jenny smiled, tentatively.

"You want to?"

The Doctor grinned widely. "Why not? You do. I'm up for a bit of exercise. Hold those three buttons I showed you, and we can go."

The smile blossomed into a grin that lit Jenny's face.

"Okay!"

"And Jenny?"

"Mm?"

"_Don't_ hit anyone why'll we're there, thanks."


	3. Adjustments

**Adjustments**

A gun on the hat-rack. Another set of hands on the console. Another mind in the TARDIS, always open, always questing.

Some things take getting used to. He'd gotten used to being alone in his head these past few years. There are only a handful of people in the universe who he can link with these days, and he hasn't seen any of them recently. Jenny's presence is like stepping into the warmth when you're freezing; so good that it hurts. Her mind is so open. He has to readjust to the connection, the constant feeling in his mind.

He has to get used to things being out of place, because Jenny has a bad habit of picking something up and forgetting to put it back where it belongs. He found _King Arthur_ stuck in with his books on gaseous chemo-biology. A week ago there was a spanner left in the kitchen next to an open box of cookies, and two days ago he noticed a glass of water sitting in the exercise room. If he's lucky she'll grow out of that soon.

The Doctor is remembering how to cook, day by day. How long has it been since he really tried to do this? The TARDIS usually turned something up when he or whoever he had along was hungry. It didn't matter much. But Jenny's never had tea. Never had scones or brownies or chips. Never had pancakes, bacon and eggs like they cook in America, or De'tal from a proper Barcelona recipe. Never had French toast. And that's definitely a tragedy. So the Doctor cooks for her.

He has to get used to feet pounding down the hall, the occasional crash of something down the corridors. Jenny's a bit of a klutz. Not when she's fighting. In danger she moves like white lightning, smooth and graceful. But when she's calm, there's so much going on in her head that she forgets to watch her feet.

The Doctor tries his best to find things she can help with around the ship. She wants to be useful, show what she can do. She's such a kid, so eager to please and prove herself. He shows her some of the simple repairs, lets her help with fused circuits and add mercury to the fluid links. If she'd pick her boots up and put them away, that'd be nice too. Or her clothes.

He has to get used to questions. When he traveled with humans, he gave them what they had to know and got on with life. He loved them all, but they wouldn't understand if he tried to explain properly. Jenny is different. She's so far behind in her learning that it's like they're going through nursery school, but she soaks up everything he teaches her, and her mind begs for more. Temporal calculations, mechanics, piloting, even the Shadow Proclamation, which she memorized and then debated with him. There's always a question on her lips. It's been centuries since the last time he really tried to teach someone. He hopes he's getting it right.

He has to get used to having a teenager on board. Jenny may look like she's around two hundred, but he places her emotional status at eighty, tops. Jenny is definitely a teenager, all her emotions intense; powerful emotions he can feel from the other end of the TARDIS. She pours off interest and happiness and curiosity like a star giving off heat. She hasn't learned to control her mind yet. When she's happy it's like there's a small sun shining. When she's frustrated he puts up shields just to keep out the mental noise.

And her impulsiveness. That still catches him off guard. He thought humans missed the point of 'DON'T wander off?' Hah. They didn't hold a candle to Jenny. She throws herself into danger with a fierceness that's almost joy. It scares thirty years out of him sometimes. He's going to choose a few very safe planets for a while. He had to get used to the fact that she loves danger. He might face it, grin at it and kick it in the shins, but Jenny revels in it. She loves to test her body as much as her mind. So he tried taking her running, Kardal riding, swimming, rock-climbing. She loved every minute of it.

He has to get used to her face, her voice. It took a week to get used to her calling 'Father!' Sometimes that voice opens wounds in his soul. She looks so _much_ like another little girl. So much like a lovely young woman who had spread her arms out in red grass and laughed. He has to get used to that, cover up the gash. She isn't that girl.

Late at night, he has to get used to the fear he feels. Her timelines are full of possible deaths. At times he feels like confining her to the TARDIS until she's five hundred, just to keep her out of harm's way. He hasn't felt like that about anyone since…

Some things are new. But the Doctor is adjusting.


	4. Liar's Dice

**Liar's Dice**

_Click-click. Click-click._

"Three fives and a three."

"Liar."

"Try it and see."

The cup slid across the wood of the kitchen table. Jenny lifted it, and her brow creased.

"That's another quid you owe me." The Doctor leaned back in his chair, smug. Jenny set down the cup, shaking the dice again.

_Click-click. Click-click._

She glanced at the dice, then met her father's eyes, her face wary.

"A six, two threes and a one."

He studied her face, recrossing his long legs. "I'll believe that."

Jenny slid the cup over, and her father lifted it. Four dice lay on the table, showing the numbers she'd called. Jenny's eyes narrowed.

"You're cheating."

The Doctor leaned back in his chair, smiling. "It's not cheating, it's using my advantage. You're leaving yourself open. If you don't want me looking into your head, then set up a decent defense. Like I showed you; put a shield around everything you don't want me seeing."

Jenny's spine stiffened just a bit. Her eyes had a glint to them now.

"Two credits says I get the next round."

The Doctor's lips quirked into a lopsided smile. "Done."

_Click-click. Click-click._

The Doctor checked his dice. Jenny focused on her father's mind. All she picked up was a sense of amusement, a hint of a challenge. She tried harder. Nothing.

He smiled back at her. "A seven, three two's and a one."

"Okay… I believe you."

"Oh you do, do you?"

He slid her the cup. The dice showed three fours and a five.

"You can't push your way in here, 'cause force won't work on me or anyone with my kind of training." Her father said, tapping his forehead, "You have to be clever, not forceful. Of course, you could just keep me from getting points up on you. Best offence is a good defense they say."

Jenny's eyes were dark, riveted on the cup she shook.

_Click-click. Click-click._

_You are _not_ getting it this time._ She closed her eyes for just a moment, concentrating on a shield that she pictured as a white force-field around herself. Then she glanced at her dice. She could feel her shield weakening around the edges, something sort of golden and blue slipping in at the weakest points of it, almost teasing. She pushed.

_Stay out!_

"Good! Really good. Erm- a six, a five, a two and a… a four?"

Jenny's eyes widened. "You got in!"

The Doctor shrugged, annoyingly serene. "You did have it right there on the surface. Got to get a mental poker face, Jenny. Poker, now there's a game where telepathy really comes in handy. Got to show you that game sometime. But 's no fun with two players. Your guess."

It was her turn again.

_Okay, shield up. Got to be stronger…or clever._

She took a look at her dice. Then Jenny got an idea. This time, she didn't really look at the pieces, but pictured the position of the dice a few rolls ago as clearly as she could. Jenny glanced up at her father, her eyes dark and compelling.

"Your guess?"

He leaned forward.

"A five, a four, and two threes. So you owe me-" he reached for the cup, glancing at the dice casually. Then his eyes widened. He glanced up at her, his eyebrows rising. Jenny planted her elbows on the table, her grin delighted and fierce.

"This time, you owe me."

The Doctor glanced at the dice again.

"Yes, 'pparently I do."


	5. Physiology

**Physiology**

"Jenny, you've got to stop trying to block with your arm. That's the third time this month you've nearly broken it. You can't block a _club_ with your_ arm_."

"It feels fine." Jenny replied, sitting back on the med-bay table. She looked down at the purplish-red blotch that spread from wrist to just below her elbow. The Doctor felt along the limb with quick, delicate fingers.

"You keep saying that, you know, but that doesn't mean I'm going to believe it. Just hold still."

He turned the arm from side to side. Jenny held her breath against the pain. The Doctor nodded to himself.

"Right, all three bones in shape, but I'm going to check for hairline fractures this time."

Jenny looked up.

"Three bones? Aren't there two bones in the forearm?"

"In a human forearm there are. In yours and mine it's a bit different. Here-" He flicked a button beside the table, and a small screen to the side lit up with a picture of her arm. Jenny studied it, fascinated. She moved her arm, and the image moved with it. She'd seen human bone-image scans, but she'd never been imaged before; she'd always been wary about letting people know she was different. Her bones didn't look like the ones she remembered. She wiggled her hand, and winced.

"Jenny, hold still." Her father said, glancing back at her in mock disapproval. "I need to look at this." He peered at the image, slipping on his glasses. Jenny stilled, watching as her father pointed.

"Here's the primary forebone, sort of like the radius in the humans, 'cept it's thinner and not connected to the hand the same way, and here's the secondary, this one that runs down the middle and connects the two on the outside. On the other side's the tertiary forebone. Now, it's not so bad if you break the primary forebone, but since the secondary bone connects the muscles for your hand to the ones for your arm it hurts like billy-oh if you break it. But, looks like you're lucky again. No cracks. Well, that's a relief then. So now we can see to the bruising."

"They're so thin." Jenny observed. The Doctor glanced at her, then back at the picture.

"Well, yes, like I said the bones are thinner than the human fore-limbs. But you really don't need as much bulk when you've got more supports taking the strain. Harder to break too, because they're more flexible than a great whopping chunk of brittle bone. That bruise…" He glanced at it again, then pulled out his sonic screwdriver and began to change settings. After a moment he shook his head, tucked it back in his pocket, and pulled open a drawer.

"It'll heal in a bit." Jenny reassured him.

"I know that, Jenny." He said distractedly, "But no sense letting it hurt the whole time while it's repairing, now is there? We can just-ah! There you are!" He pulled a small, dark wand from the drawer. It started to whirr slightly.

"Subdermal hemohemmorage reducer-modifier and cell-growth inducer. Malto bene. Here we go-" He ran the wand over her arm, which tingled with cold, then slowly warmed until it felt as if the area was fevered. She watched the bruise slowly pale. Now it was yellowish, now just a little pink. Her father smiled.

"That's better."

"It'd take eight hours to heal normally." Jenny said wonderingly, flexing her hand. Her father smiled lightly, watching her.

"And thirty-six if one of the bones had broken. See why I told you to stop using your arm to block?"

She shrugged, her face becoming calm and impassive.

_Oh great. She's not listening to me._

"So, do you heal like me?"

"Mm, more or less. I heal just a bit faster, but I've also had…" He turned, moving to the shelves. "a few things done. Anyway, here's the rest of the skeleton." He clicked another button, and she could see a complete skeletal structure. She peered at it, then hopped off the table to look at it more closely.

"Neat."

"Yup."

She turned to watch her father. "So do you wake up when you die too?"

"Wake up when you die?" He let out a small laugh, turning to look at her. "Wake from the dead? That's a nice way to put it."

"I was dead, Father. Or I ought to have been. Then I woke up. How does that work?"

Her father shrugged. "Oh, you weren't all that dead. I've been dead, and believe me, it's a little more problematic." He strode across the room, finding something to occupy his hands as he talked. "It's called regeneration. When our bodies wear out or get damaged beyond repair, we regenerate. Of course usually we change too."

Jenny cocked her head. "Change?"

"Our appearances." He glanced up at her, smiling slightly. "Last time around I had a bit less hair, and a bit bigger ears. Picture me looking something like an Irish hit man. Time before that I was a bit of a poet, all willowy with long hair and green-green eyes?" He glanced upwards, considering, "No, hazel, they were hazel. Nearly forgot that. It's because our genetic code re-writes itself in order to make repairs, and things get changed along in the process. And it's not pleasant. So try not to get killed, all right? No sense overusing the privilege."

Jenny stared at him, her eyes wide.

"So any time we die-"

"Twelve times." Her father stilled. He turned to face her. "Twelve times we die and regenerate. Thirteen lives are given to us. A gift of Time Lord biology." He said the word 'gift' bitterly, the smile on his face small and pained. Jenny took a step forward. _Why does it hurt him to think about that?_

Then the Doctor drew a breath, and gave her a wide smile, covering the darkness.

"And it's a good thing we've got it, isn't it, since I am one of the more jeopardy friendly beings in the universe, and you're just as bad as I am, maybe even a bit worse, which is something I _never_ thought I'd say. Anyway, you've got human anatomy and physiology in your head, let's get some stuff about your own body in there. Biology, anatomy, physiology. All the basics, strengths and weaknesses and tricks you can do. That kind of thing." He flicked on two screens, and pulled a pad from one of the drawers, handing it to her.

"These'll give you a better sense of bone and muscle structure. Some of this you probably know from experience, everyday life. Body temperature of sixteen degrees Celsius; we don't chill very easily, don't get hot very fast, got the respiratory bypass system and, of course, binary cardiovascular system. Pulse of seventy over seventy. Couple other things, I'll show you in a bit."

"Anything that can give me a tactical advantage?" Jenny asked. Her father shot her an annoyed glance.

"Not everything's about _fighting_, you know_._" Then he sighed. "Okay, things to remember, and you can call them 'advantages' if you like. We can go without oxygen for ten minutes, tops, before losing consciousness. We can handle a fall of about forty feet, but not much more than that. Our muscles are denser than the usual types, get a lot of tensile strength packed into small areas, so we can pretty much lift about…"

"Three times our weight?"

He nodded his head from side to side, considering. "And a little more, actually. How'd you know?"

Jenny grinned. "Won a prize on Setar Two. Benched three hundred and fifty pounds."

He nodded, eyebrows raised. "Very nice. That's muscle density at work. Three hundred and fifty?" He nodded, expression surprised and approving. Jenny smiled proudly.

"Anyway…" Her father leaned back against the counter, ticked facts off on his fingers. "Our range of vision goes from ten nanometers to three thousand nanometers along the electromagnetic spectrum, which is probably why you got the eye when you talked about the lovely colors on that stone to a few of those folks on Sakifrax; they didn't see the colors that you did. Hearing goes from ten hertz to about forty kilohertz. Which means opera is definitely_ not_ a pleasant experience. We can handle pressure levels equaling something like two thousand kilograms per square centimeter down to zero pressure. But I really wouldn't suggest mucking with the higher pressures, you feel off for days. Bodies can handle a lot of radiation, so don't worry too much about that. Oh, and our facial bones are a bit different, so they're not so easy to break, which is a good thing considering all the times I get punched in the nose. Still got a glass jaw though, me. Hope you didn't inherit that. Oh, and speaking of getting punched, don't get yourself punched on your left shoulder, especially on the collar bone, 'cause we've got a bundle of nerves right there, and you'll be out for hours with a good blow to that spot. We do badly with anything that's designed to act on the inflammatory and the pain-reception centers in terran life forms, anything that depresses brain function, and also anything with menthol or sallyic acid in it, so watch out for those. Don't let anyone give you aspirin, sedatives, mint tea, willow bark tea, or try to do surgery on you on Earth. That's never pretty. We have the ability to consciously control our heart rates, breathing rate, blood oxygen levels, and of course our respiratory bypass system, with a little training. Oh, and to sense changes in organ function and enzyme levels. We're rather like those odd little punching toys they made in the nineteen-fifties, actually. Knock us down and we pop back up again. Sums us up, just about." He grinned. "Any questions?"

"Yeah." Jenny said, turning back to him, "Can you show me the stuff about controlling my lungs and hearts?"


	6. Chores

**Chores**

_Where is she? _

He stalked down the corridor as it twisted and reconfigured ahead of him. He stopped, crossing his arms over his thin chest.

"Jenny?"

There was the slam of a door, and Jenny came jogging out. She stopped in front of him, hands behind her back. She smiled up at him, breathing between her teeth.

"Yes?"

"Didn't you say you'd add the mercury and water to the lubrication chute for the fluid links?"

"I….Oh." Her eyes widened.

"You forgot?" He quirked a dark eyebrow. Her face fell a bit.

"Yeah." She said, pale face contrite.

The Doctor stared down at her. He gave a small sigh. "Jenny, I asked you to do that, what? Eight hours ago? You said you wanted to help around the ship. Those are the kind of things you can help me with. But I need to be able to trust you. Do you know what would have happened if I'd started the ship without checking the fluid links?"

Jenny looked up at him. "No?"

"The links would explode, the helmic regulator would snap, and we'd be in rather a nasty state of dissolution." He gave her a clear picture of the event. She winced slightly.

"Sorry."

Her father's eyes held hers. "I don't need you to be sorry, Jenny. I need you to remember. Remembering to check the mercury levels, loading the dishwasher, picking up your shoes after your run-"

She started. "I did!"

"No, you didn't, I found them in the main bathroom. Simple things like that. Just simple things, all right? Pick up after yourself and such. You're pretty much old enough to do that. Work on it, okay?"

Jenny's face had gone still, her eyes fastened on his. She nodded stiffly.

"Yes, sir. I will, sir. Sorry."

It felt like a wall had gone up in her, all ice and anger. The Doctor took a step forward. "O, now don't be-"

"I'll go and lubricate the links now."

Turning on her heel, she strode away. The Doctor gazed after her, eyebrows rising nearly to his hairline. He'd meant to tell her off. He'd expected her to be contrite, maybe a bit embarrassed. He hadn't expected her to react like _that. _He took a step after her- then stopped. No. He wasn't going to apologize. She needed to learn to remember her obligations. And if that took her getting a bit wounded, even if she was like an icicle in his head at the moment, then so be it.

Yet his annoyance had still slid halfway into guilt.

_Maybe I shouldn't have come down so hard_…

_She could have imploded the ship_

_Well, a mistake…_

_Mistakes can kill you._

_Oh, this is useless._

Unable to go after her, unable to go back to his own work, the Doctor stood still in the corridor. He stuck his hands in his pockets, and sighed to himself.

_Teenager._


	7. Changes

**Changes**

It's strange sometimes, getting used to traveling with her father.

For starters, she doesn't need any identification when she's with him. No worries about docking license or customs. They just show up wherever they want, and there isn't a problem.

Well, mostly there isn't a problem. Sometimes there were problems. Then they fixed them. Or they ran. Or both.

Jenny had to get used to his leadership. She'd followed her own instincts and the Words for the last few years, signed up only under commands she'd chosen, and she'd done all right. Now half the time her father is warning her, calling her. Watch out. Don't touch that. Don't do that. Clean that up, will you? Be careful. Don't wander off. It gets annoying sometimes.

And he doesn't give orders. Well, aside from 'run!' and the quick commands he gives when they're under fire. Those are easy. She knows how to follow orders. It's harder when they're safe. Jenny is used to being told what to do and doing it. The Doctor doesn't order. He suggests things. He says 'if you'd do that, it'd be nice.' Or 'can you grab that for me? Ta.' And he asks things. He's always asking 'why're you doing that, then?' or 'what happens if you do that?' He makes her think. It takes getting used to.

She had to get used to her father in general. It was weird having the 'natural psychokinetic field overlap', the link they had in their heads, at first. She can always feel him around the edge of her mind. Sometimes he talks straight into her head. Other times it's just a feeling. It's nice, to have some sort of a response when she reaches out. It feels right, like she was missing something without knowing what it was, and now she has it. But she can't really lie to him. He always knows what she's feeling. Sometimes it drives her crazy. She has to work on those mental shields. And he himself took some getting used to; sometimes he's as enthusiastic as she is, even more. He loves everything, and it seems like he knows about everything. He'll give her a wild-possibilities grin sometimes, and it makes her feel like running. It's kind of hypocritical of him to warn her not to touch things, because he's always curious, always poking into something. But he can change so fast, go still inside, get serious.

She had to get used to his talk. In a good mood he's always talking, talking, talking. Places he's been. People he's met. Places they're going or going to go or not going to go, and why. Science and ideas and opinions and jokes all jumbled together. At first it had thrown her. She learned to keep up with the conversation and join in. Now she thinks it's pretty funny to watch the eyes of people they meet go huge when he starts getting enthusiastic. Sometimes she reminds him that he's not making a lot of sense to new friends or enemies.

She got used to the amenities pretty fast. She loves having her own room, and different clothes for different days. She found garments her father calls 'jeans' in the Wardrobe, blue ones and black ones, and now there are always a few pair in the dresser in her room, along with lots of shirts. Some of them have pictures on them, which is really fun. And there are jackets. And vests. Jenny found out that she looks good in a vest and t-shirt. She found out she likes varied clothing.

Being able to eat whenever she feels like it, shower individually, decide when to wake up and when to sleep took getting used to as well. At first she'd felt out of sorts without any regimen. But she really loves being able to decide how she feels for herself.

She's learned most of her father's signs. When he runs both his hands through his hair something really isn't making sense. When he puts on his glasses, something is interesting. When he stands very still, something is wrong. When his voice is low and quiet, he's thinking. When he stands looking relaxed, hands in his pockets, voice light and reasonable, he is usually getting ready to do something. When his voice rings in the air and she can feel the punch of his emotions behind it, she gets ready to act. If he stares at someone hard, it means something bad is likely to happen to the person pretty soon.

Jenny is getting used to having a species. Most people who did catch that she was different thought she was some kind of mutant human. She'd started to think of herself like that. Different. Weird. Now she's pleasantly surprised to find she's supposed to be the way she is, do the things she does. She's Gallifreyan. But sometimes it's a let down; she always had an edge around humans. She could learn a lot faster, move faster, survive better. Now she finds out she's pretty average; sometimes her father even seems exasperated that she doesn't understand more. There are things that Time Lords did in their minds, stuff she hasn't even started to learn yet. She hopes she'll be able to get it soon.

And she gets used to his history. On the surface he's the Doctor. He's her father. But he's been a lot of things. He said once that he's nine-hundred and some years old, and she can see it once in a while. Sometimes a faraway look comes into his eyes, and he holds himself as if he's trying to stop something from crumbling inside. That's when he's remembering. She never knows what will bring that look. Once she'd said 'I bet the neutron flow can be rerouted. You agree, Father?" She'd turned, and he'd had that look on his face. Once she'd found a pretty song to sing from a holotape. She'd been working, humming away.

"My love is like a red, red rose, dum-da-dum dum dum. My love is like a melody, dum-da-dum dum dum."

She'd felt his pain, and glanced into eyes that were suddenly deep and old and aching.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Sing something else, alright?"

Some questions bring that look out. She gets used to avoiding those, though she'd love to know the answers. She gets used to quick looks and half-answered questions and subject changes. She gets used to leaving some things alone.

She's got so much to learn. There's so much that's different. But she's getting used to it.


	8. Getting to Know You

**Getting To Know You**

Jenny was getting to know the TARDIS. Her first lesson was long. Like most of her lessons, it started with a question.

"Hit those three buttons. Then flip that switch."

"Why?"

The Doctor quirked his eyebrows at his daughter, his face pale in the green glow of the console.

"Because I told you to."

"No," Jenny said, poking her head around the time rotor, "I mean why does it work like this? Can you show me now?" She watched him, her thin frame leaned around the rotor, head cocked. Her father's forehead creased.

"You mean the TARDIS? Which part?"  
"All of it."

He gave a short, surprised laugh.

"It's a little more complex than that. Really understanding it's going to take years, but I suppose I can start some of it today. Actually you already started to learn when you arrived, helping me drive and do repairs." He took a step back from the console.

"She's all right relaxing in the Vortex for now. So, where to start, where to start, where…" he wandered around the console, glancing over the panels as he moved. He'd almost walked into Jenny, who was thinking about stepping out of the way, when he looked up, eyes bright.

"Hah! History. Start with history. Well…" he glanced away. "Maybe not. Ah! Better. Growth. We'll start right at the beginning of a TARDIS, and work our way forwards. Right."

And he began to lecture. Jenny watched him pace and talk. A great deal. Once he got going nothing short of a small explosion or a large weapon could stop him. Well, she had asked.  
He explained how a TARDIS capsule was progenated, usually as a graft that budded from a fully formed model.

"Y'see they're sort of a cross between biological engineering and bioelectrical engineering, with the mechanical workings fitted on top. The mechanical stuff is actually easy, I could do it, and I'm no expert, believe you me. I actually have had to do a lot of it over again on this one, some bits've gotten pretty badly damaged over time an' had to be replaced and such. I'm lucky this old girl likes me, or else I would have been in trouble years ago. Mostly the hard part is the actual budding. You have to have a certain set of chemicals, all in the right order, and a decent atmosphere for it to work. I don't think it ever can happen again, since I've never seen a planet that had an atmosphere quite like it was back home. But, that's all right, I don't think the old girl would fancy motherhood much anyway."

The Doctor grimaced for a moment, his eyes losing focus. Jenny could just feel an echo of the ship's reprimand.

"Ooh, touchy. Sorry. Anyway, if you get a successful budding, then you keep the progeny in contact with its elders; other capsules that can basically give it telepathic feedback and information, help it hardwire its bio-circuitry and form its natural telepathic field. Then, once the hardwiring is down pat, you start exposing it to the Vortex, let it get its sea-legs, that takes a bit of time. You have to actually do some programming inside the Vortex, which means going in the mother ship-mothership, oh I can't believe I just said that, next I'll be saying take me to your leader-"

"Father?"

"Oh, right, sorry…right, programming it so that the ship can exist in a state called temporal grace. The trips in the Vortex, with the adult ship showing the new one the ropes, stimulate the ship's built-in trans-temporal instincts. That's where the bigger-on-the-inside thing comes in. Remember what I told you about space?"

"Which part?"

"Quantum mechanics. The bit about levels of reality."

"I think so."

"Well, quick recap. What do you remember? There are the twelve planes, and don't let me hear you calling them dimensions, that's an incorrect use of the word. A dimension's an entirely different thing. So?"

"There are twelve existing planes," Jenny began slowly, "And we live in all twelve of them simultaneously. The ones we really interact with are the first four of spacetime; length, width, depth and time. The next four form the structure that allow the first four to hold together, and the last four are basically rolled up inside the normally sensed planes so tightly that they aren't noticeable, until you get into warp-gravitation and warp-stream work."

The Doctor nodded. "Almost right. Warp-stream only really touches the sixth plane; we work with the eighth plane, what everybody calls the Vortex. And a TARDIS, once it sees another of its own kind do its thing, is able to access both the Vortex and ninth plane. It unrolls part of the ninth plane-level within itself, creating all the extra space we get inside, sort of a mini-universe of its own. Makes life very comfy. After that, the ship's main workings pretty much relocate to the interior plane. The outer shell becomes the shape that holds the link open, the door in, I suppose you could say. That didn't come out right… but close enough for now. These smaller planes don't have much effect from the fourth dimension, being time, so they're pretty much trans-temporal. With me so far?"

Jenny nodded.

"Right. So because they're trans-temporal, they work with all times at once, because all times are the present, pretty much. So everything that has ever existed in the ship without a bioelectrical signal of its own-that being a brain- can be pulled up at any time. So somewhere ahead in my timeline or yours, somebody hung that really hideous silver gown in the Wardrobe. And now it's always there. Case in point. And I know it's from the future b'cause I'd remember something that ugly. Anyway, that's an example of the fact that to a TARDIS, Time doesn't really exist. Or, rather, Time is something it can choose-well not choose, but…" he sighed, his fingers running through his hair. "This isn't coming out quite right. Okay, Time is like… water! A TARDIS can dip in and out of it, but they're not carried in the flow of it. It's like they're…"

"Like those animals?" Jenny asked, "The otters? They swim in the water, then jump out when they feel like it."

"Yes! Oh, good analogy." Her father grinned. "A TARDIS, properly piloted, acts _exactly_ like that! And it can choose exactly when and where to jump in, with the direction of its pilots, passing through the Vortex to move from one point in spacetime to another. But, sorry, getting ahead of myself. After that the progeny is then put through a process, again by older capsules, to stimulate the formation of its full telepathic field. Then the engineer who's working on it begins to attach the implants that the ship's designed to receive. The ship's attached and connected together from the ground up, all the mechanical bits wired into the bio-formed core. The most important parts, the Time Rotor and the temporal circuits, those are wired right into the ship's Heart. And then it's programmed to give it a sense of how to compartmentalize itself, how to form architecture; rooms and corridors and such. With a little work on the telepathic field you can always change the rooms. Reconfigurable architecture. Then they're done. You end up with a machine that's trans-temporal, spatially transcendent, even semi-sentient." He patted the console-and flinched.

"All right, _alternately _sentient. Blimey, I'm going to get a headache if this keeps up. Last step is the easiest. Biological and isomorphic imprinting."

"And how does that work?"

The Doctor shrugged.

"You just drive it for a bit. Stay near it. It's in our blood to form a link with the ships; so it forms a link with you, gets into your head, you get into its. They take care of the pilots, we take care of them. And the longer you pilot, the closer you get. It's pretty hard to take a TARDIS from their pilot. It can be done, I've seen it done occasionally, but if a ship doesn't like you it can make life pretty miserable." He checked another of the capacitors, talking all the time. "And bonding's not always that simple, y'know. Not every TARDIS will bond with everyone. For instance I could never bond with anything over a type Seventy. It was like having a horse trying to buck you off and bite you at the same time."

"Horse?"

He glanced at her. "Didn't I show you horses?"

"No."

"Well they're-" He paused, shook his head. "No, not important at the mo. Where was I…Oh, right. So once you find a ship that bonds to you, you can end up getting pretty close. The rest of the crew gets a passing bond, but the real connection is with the-not sure if this is going to translate right-the lead pilot. You feel each other's emotions, and you sort of rub off on each other. And if the bond is really strong, you can pilot pretty much by yourself, with its help. They get to be a partner, almost a part of their pilots."

Jenny smirked. "Is that why nothing works when you're in a bad mood?"

He answered with a rueful smile. "That's part of it. Also, they are semi…alternately sentient, so they tend to react to your moods and actions of their own accord. And that's also why you try not to do anything really stupid; it annoys the TARDIS. And she has no compunctions about telling you off. And she gets _vindictive_. Get on her nerves and she'll remove all your favorite foods, hide your shoes and shake you like a maraca for a few trips. And she won't take you anywhere you want to go. Try not to do it. Anyway…"


	9. Action and Reaction

**Action and Reaction**

Jenny tugged at the manacle. The chain rattled, but the bolts holding it in place didn't stir. She tugged harder. Nothing.

"Don't do that. You'll chafe your wrists."

She glared at her father, manacled to the wall across the cell. His hair was even messier than usual, flattened on one side and sticking up wildly on the other. His tie had been pulled loose. Good. He deserved it.

"You should have let me hit him. Then-"

"Then we would have been shot, not just locked up." The Doctor replied cooly. "And I hate getting shot." He glanced at the manacles around his own wrists, and, despite what he'd just told her, gave them a good tug. It did as little good as it had done her. He frowned.

"If I can get my sonic screwdriver…"

"What?" Jenny challenged, "With your teeth?" it was his fault they were stuck in here. They could have fought their way past the guards. Instead he'd ordered her not to struggle.

_**A soldier obeys orders.**_

_Shut up._

Across the cell, the Doctor seemed to be considering her words. He shook his head.

"Nope, it's in the lower breast pocket, and these chains won't let me bend that low." He met Jenny's glare again. Her face was set like white marble. Why she was cranky he had no idea, since she should be properly abashed at this point. It was her impulsiveness that had gotten them down here in the first place. He rattled a manacle again, and sighed, glancing back at his daughter.

"This is why you don't go barging into situations, by the way. You asses _first_ .You learn the conditions. Look before you leap, remember?"

"I did look." Jenny replied hotly. "And I didn't like what I saw. What they're doing is wrong. I wanted to fix it."

"And you got _us_ in a fix instead." Her father replied drily. "I'm not disagreeing with your view." He twisted his hands in their manacles, and gave the maneuver up. "The problem's with your method of acting on it."

"What would you have done, then?" She demanded.

"Glad you asked." The Doctor said, eyes on the manacle around his right wrist, "I was starting to do it when you barreled in. When we landed at this party the talk about war and their 'secret weapon' got my interest, like it did yours. Then when we got downstairs and I met the High Minister and had a bit of a chat, I knew exactly what was happening. And for your information, you weren't the only one who saw the bruises under his wife's fur. So, what was I going to do? I was going to speak to several of the more thoughtful cabinet members throughout the party, ask them very carefully if they don't think that the High Minister has been overreaching their country's charter. Discuss their country's illustrious history, then work the conversation around to the fact that if they approve going to battle, their country will become the aggressor in a war that will tarnish their name for centuries. I mean, they're basically going to raze that little lot next door, and with weapons from a more advanced planet too. We would have had a discreet chat with the Minister's Lady on the way out, get her away somewhere safe if she wanted out from under her husband. The Cabinet would have deposed the High Minister in a few days, everyone would have been right proud of themselves for their wisdom and their patriotism, Lady Rees'ssha would have been quite happy, and his Lordship would have been disgraced enough to stay out of politics. The non-planetary weapons he's gotten a hold of would never have been used, and they would have forgotten that we were ever there. What I would _not_-" he emphasized his words with a pointed, eyebrow-raised stare-"have done was go in, suggest to the High Minister that I give him a beating of the same intensity as the one he gave his wife, then whirl around and tell his Cabinet that they were poor strategists and idiots for going with their bloke's orders, in front of the whole party. Because, Jenny, _this_ is what happens when you do. Now the Cabinet is feeling belligerent, the plans for war are still going ahead, they still don't know about the non-native weapon they're sanctioning the use of, and the Minister still has his wife under his hand. And we're down _here_. Where we can't fix any of it."

Jenny stared right back.

"I didn't call them idiots."

Her father rolled his eyes. "No, you called them worse. Which really _didn't_ help matters. So whenever we get out, now we'll have to find those weapons, deactivate them, talk some sense into a very annoyed Cabinet, possibly get into a fight with some guards, and rescue the Minister's Lady. Which will be quite a lot more trouble than it needed to be. "

For a moment, father and daughter stared at each other. Jenny glanced down. She pulled at her manacles again. Then she braced her legs against the wall, and kicked outwards, pushing her body up into an arc. Her feet landed hard against the sides of the manacles binding her wrists. Other than scraping the stone behind them, the manacles didn't budge. Jenny let herself back down, her back thudding painfully against the stone as her legs hit the floor. She couldn't even do that right.

"Impressive."

"And useless." Jenny grated.

Her father shrugged. "Ah, well, it's still a nice move. Might have worked too, if these weren't durasteel. Besides, it's not like you're Houdini. Can't expect to…Oh! Houdini!" The Doctor's thin face lit up. He nudged the edge of his coat open, and pulled what looked like a length of wire from his breast pocket with his teeth. Leaning to the left, he just managed to get it into his hand.

"What's a Houdini?" Jenny asked.

"Who's Houdini, Jenny. Harry Houdini, amazing man, a human actually, great fellow, and the one who taught me how to do-" Her father twisted the wire once, twice, flicked his hand, and the manacle fell away.

"that! Like I said, great man."

He pushed the wire into the other manacle, and in a moment it popped open.

"They never change these things!" the Doctor exclaimed. He bounded to Jenny's side, and in a moment she was free.

"You have got to show me how to do that!" She said. He grinned. "Later, yes I do. Now for the door." Whipping out his sonic screwdriver, the Doctor pressed it against the lock. It clicked.

"There we are!"

Jenny poked her head out the door. Distantly, she could hear the sound of running feet.

"They know we're out."

Her father glanced up the corridor. "I figured as much. Doesn't give us much of a head start, but anyway…" He grabbed her hand, and met her eyes. "Run!"

…………………………………………………………………………………….

Jenny stood, nonplussed. The Lady Rees'ssha had wrapped both arms and her tail around the Doctor in an enthusiastic hug. She let go of him, and grabbed Jenny in the same sort of embrace, muffling her in blue fur. Jenny was sure she'd never felt more awkward in her life.

"How can I ever thank you?" the woman asked, letting go of Jenny. Her wide silver eyes gleamed as she smiled at the pair. The Doctor smiled back.

"Just go out and be brilliant, that's all the thanks you need. Will you be able to get by on-" He gestured to the rubies the Lady had grabbed as they'd run from the High Minister's private rooms. Rees'ssha glanced down at the stones, and gave off a warbling little laugh.

"Get by? With these I could buy an island!"

"Well, don't get too flashy." The Doctor said. "Though I don't think you need to worry about your husband again. From the look of it, the army and the Cabinet will be dealing with him."

Jenny nodded. "He lied to his troops as well as his Cabinet, and now they know it. Bad idea to lie to the men who put their lives on the line for you. He's going to regret it."

Rees'ssha's lips pulling back from long teeth.

"I hope he does."

She glanced back at the TARDIS, its door left open when they'd landed to drop her off.

"Will I see you two again?"

Jenny pasted a smile on her face.

_I really, really hope not._

Her father's amusement rippled through her head. To Rees'ssha, he shrugged.

"Oh, you never know. Good luck with it all."

"And you. Both of you." Bending her long torso, Lady Rees'ssha gave an intricate bow. Jenny stepped back into the TARDIS, and her father closed the door.

The ship hummed quietly around them. The Doctor took up his stance at the console.

"Well, that was interesting. Lesse, total tally of the day: one catastrophic war with overly advanced technology averted, one damsel in distress saved, one mad nascent dictator deposed and punched in the mouth, and one floor blown to smithereens. You did have to fit punching and something blowing up in, didn't you?"

"I didn't mean to." Jenny defended, walking to the other side of the console. "Well-not the explosion, anyway. It just…happened. I assumed the weapons were inactivated. Guess I shouldn't have. But I did put them out of commission."

"Oh you did that." The Doctor replied, "In spades." He released the handbrake, and the ship began to groan and hum around them. He glanced around the rotor as they worked.

"So, learn anything from that whole mess? Anything at all?"

"Yep." Jenny replied, her eyes on the controls. She glanced across at her father.

"I found out how bad I am at escapes. I'd like to meet this man Houdini. Looks like I could use a bit of his specialized training. Can we go there?"

Across the console, The Doctor rolled his eyes.

"Not what I meant, Jenny. If we hadn't gotten _in _to the situation in the first place we wouldn't have had to get _out _of it."

Jenny grinned at him.

"I know. But we did."

The Doctor glanced at Jenny, intending to drive home the importance of cause and effect at length. But he met his daughter's wide eyes, her confident grin. He shook his head at his impossible child. And he set the coordinates to introduce her to Houdini. If she was going to get into situations, she might as well know how to get out of them.

If he remembered right, that had been his reasoning when he'd gone to meet Houdini too.


	10. Dreams

It was the noise that got Jenny's attention. She looked up from her work in the maintenance level of the ship. Setting down the tools she'd been using, she scrambled through the understory and up the hatch into the consol room, glancing around.

There was a muffled sound, and Jenny turned. Her father had dozed off in the console chair, his fawn coat spread over him like a blanket. Jenny relaxed a stance she'd barely recognized she'd been holding. She smiled slightly, watching him sleep. They'd been busy, and she was pretty sure he hadn't slept in four or five days. It was good that he was getting a little rest.

Then the older man's forehead wrinkled. He twitched, and his face took on a pained look. A small, strangled cry rasped out of his throat. Jenny stepped over, putting a hand on her father's shoulder.

"Father?"

He twitched under her hand, his breathing harsh. She shook him slightly. "Hey, Father."

The Doctor moaned, then cried out something indecipherable. Jenny shook him harder. "Father. Hey, wake up."

She almost stepped back when he snapped back to consciousness, his eyes wide and glazed. He stared at her, breathing hard. There was something frightened, almost desperate in his expression.

"She'ara?" he asked, studying her face. His voice was dazed, distant.

"It's Jenny, Father." she said, "You fell asleep. You had a nightmare."

For a moment he stared at her. Then he shook his head, his dark hair ruffling out. "Whew. Not fun, not fun at all. Remind me not to read Anne Rice before I nod off!" He stretched, then ran his hands through his hair. "You finish those repairs?"

"No. You've only been asleep twenty minutes."

"Oh, all right. Well, I'll check the levels from up here, give you a hand."

Jenny nodded, watching him walk to the console and begin to type. "Father?"

"Hmm?"

"Who's She'ara? You said that name when you were waking up."

He glanced at her, his hands stilling on the console. "I did?" Jenny nodded. He looked at her for a moment, his dark eyes far away. Then he turned back to the console. "Just someone I knew. A girl. Bout your age." He pulled a few levers. "A long time ago." He drew a breath. "Okay, ready for your end of the work. I'll holler down when it's right."

Jenny nodded, and lowered herself into the understory. She picked up her tools.

She'ara.

A girl about her age.

Maybe she'd ask again. Some other day.


	11. Stuff

**Stuff**

"Wait a moment, Father."

The Doctor glanced over his shoulder, his silhouette framed in the light of the door.

"Jenny, has that bag fallen open again? I told you not to overstuff it. There's only so much a bit of denim fabric can handle you know." He turned to watch Jenny repack the denim satchel she had taken to wearing. A small box, several cans, a blaster, a knife, a roll of gauze and several different kinds of currency were stuffed back inside the bulging bag. She pulled the long strap over her shoulder, letting it fall bandolier-style across her chest. The bag thumped into the small of her back, and something fell out of it with a clatter. She grimaced. The Doctor rolled his eyes.

"Here. Take the bag off. This is long overdue."

"What?"

"Just take the bag off."

Eyes wary, Jenny pulled off her satchel, handing it over. The Doctor took it, and pulled out the items she had in it one by one.

"Oh, that's nice. Where did you get that? Do you need to carry this? And this? And-no, actually, that's probably something good to have on hand with you around. But _these_?"

Finally, her bag was empty. The Doctor shook it just to be sure, then pulled it open.

"All right. Now we're ready. All I need is-" He jumped up, pulled a grate from the floor, found a crate and dug through it. After a moment he came up with a small object, something like a nautilus shell.

"Ah! Here we are! Trans-material expander. This'll help quite a bit."

"For what?"

He grinned. "For a bit of extra room in there. Expand a plane inside, tie it into the fabric of your bag, and viola! Instant roominess."

He placed the tool on the bottom of the bag, playing his fingers over the ridges of the shell. His eyes grew intent as he focused on the work he was doing, as the small shell began to glow. The air around her satchel shimmered like a heat-mirage. Then the Doctor took a breath, and smiled.

"There we go!" He reached into her bag-up to his wrist, then up to his elbow- and pulled out the expander. "Bung your things in there now."

Jenny nodded. She picked up her bag, hefting it tentatively. It felt the same as ever. Stepping over to her necessities, she dropped them into her bag one by one. The bag didn't expand. Even when she added the towel and the book on dimensional engineering, it stayed the same. She glanced up from it-and grinned.

"You have _got _to teach me how to do that."

The Doctor smiled. "What do you want some more space in?"

Jenny considered for a moment. "Jeans with pockets that are bigger on the inside. Can I try that?"


	12. Tricks

**Tricks**

Jenny sighed.

"How long have we been in here?"

Her father glanced aside for a second, his long frame stretched out on the cot.

"Oh…four hours, twenty minutes, thirty-six seconds."

"And why are we in here?"

He sat up slowly on the cot, wincing at the pain that shot through the shoulder that had been dislocated. Jenny had popped it back into place, but it was still a bit sore.

"Welllll, Sontarans may not have much for brains, but they have a rather good memory, 'specially for enemies, meaning me, and so the minute they saw me, pow! Lobbed in the cell, back to Sontar to be executed. Rather rude of them really, since we weren't doing anything to them this time, and last time they rather asked for it. And the time before that."

"What did you do to them?"

The Doctor glanced at her. "Which time?"

Jenny rolled her eyes. This was so like him. They'd been on Retesa to get a few foodstuffs, a really simple trip. And this was where they ended up.

"And why did you let them put us in here?"

"Because it was easier." He said, resting his head on his arms. The cot was short, and his long legs kicked off the edge. Jenny leaned her lithe body against the bars.

"Easier than fighting the four of them? They were tiny."

The Doctor rolled onto his side, leaning on his elbow, looking at her calmly.

"They might have been, but their percussion weapons weren't. What they did to my arm was a warning. Sontarans are better armed and crazier than any species I know, and I'm pretty sure that being called small and funny so often has given them a complex. And they always have backup. You can't fight Sontarans, Jenny. It just isn't practicable."

Jenny stared back at him impassively, her arms crossed. "Then what do we do?"

Her father gave a grin that was almost child-like.

"Outsmart them. That's the easy part."

"And how do we do that?"

He lay back. "We wait. For now."

Another hour passed. Two. Jenny counted the ceiling tiles. Three hundred and seventy six. She braided her hair. She unbraided it. She was bored. Bored, bored, bored. And annoyed. She wanted to fight.

There was a sigh behind her, and the Doctor sat up.

"I'm getting tired of all this waiting, you know." He reached into one of his pockets, eyes unfocused as he felt around. He pulled out a teacup, set it down. Pulled out several coils of something. A box of something that rattled. A bottle. And a small red ball on a long string. He grinned.

"Ah. Just the thing. Knew it was in there."

Jenny leaned forward, interested. "What's that?"

"A yo-yo. It's a toy from Earth. And I'm pretty good with it, if I do say so myself."

He got it moving. Up, down, up, down. Then he held his hands apart, flipping the yo-yo through his fingers. He played Static. Then Thin Ice. He played the Double-or-Nothing trick. Then the Confusion, letting it roll along its own strings. A few more tricks. It was boring. So the Doctor got creative. He let time slip and slide around the toy. The yo-yo dropped like a stone through a time-dilation. It moved slowly, as if the air around it had congealed. Then the yo-yo balanced in a temporal splice, making it appear to be in two places at once. Jenny lit up like an electric bulb. She must be interested in the games.

"You want a turn with it?" he asked her.

"Something changed. What'd you do?"

He glanced up sharply-then smiled, trying to remain casual. "Just a game. What'd it look like to you?"

"Hunh?"

"What did you see?"

Jenny considered, her face remote.

"I saw the ball in two places. But one of them wasn't really there…or it was… first it was the one on top that was-_real_, then it was the one on bottom."

The Doctor nodded, projecting a sense of calm. Inside he was glowing with excitement. _Is she seeing Time? She's seeing it. Nobody who couldn't see time flows would have noticed._

"Mm-hmm. You're seeing a time-splice."

Jenny left her stance at the door, stepping over to drop cross-legged beside her father, watching the toy float in midair.

"Show me how to do that."

The Doctor glanced at her.

_If she can see it, maybe she can learn…but where do I start? __**How**__ do I start?_

He let the yo-yo roll between his fingers.

_Right. How did they teach me this in the Academy?_

_Through temporal-drift theory conveyance. Which she doesn't have the background to understand that's out._

Her eyes were wide and bright, expectant. He sighed to himself.

_Okay, drop that. Practical lesson._

"Right." He flicked his wrist, moving the yo-yo up and down, up and down.

"You can see it moving, right?"

Her eyes were riveted on the toy. "Yes."

"Describe it."

She glanced up at him, puzzled.

"Describe everything you see. Every detail."

Jenny's eyes moved with the yo-yo for a moment.

"It's red, with black bands…the paint's a little shiny and it catches the light when it goes down…and the string is white and you can see it vibrate when the ball comes back up."

"What else?"

Jenny glanced at him, then back at the yo-yo.

"It's slower at the bottom, then it speeds up…and when it moves it sort of, mmm, leaves a line in the air. It's…it's like a ripple, like…like a trail."

"Yes? Describe that."

Jenny narrowed her eyes, studying. "It's like the light is reflecting off the ball, but the ball isn't there…sorry. Sounds weird."

The Doctor let his attention show through his shield. His eyes were intent as he watched his daughter study the toy. "Oh no, Jenny. It doesn't sound weird. In fact it sounds very very right. I see that all the time. You're _supposed_ to see that."

"Supposed to?" Her eyes moved with the yo-yo, enthralled.

"Yes. That's its time signature. What you're seeing is the object, where it has been, and where it's going to be. You're seeing it move through time. Now, I want you to focus. Where's the yo-yo?"

One long finger extended. "Right there." She said, in a tone conveying 'isn't that obvious?'

"But what about here?" he froze the moment at the top of the arc, "Or here?" He froze another moment. Jenny met his eyes, puzzled, as he continued to explain.

"You can see it. You know it exists. In actuality it's in all these places at the same time. Look closely. The universe likes things to be in one place in spacetime, so an object tends to be forced to move in one direction. But it's like I said; time has currents and eddies. It moves every way. Moments exist side by side, right on top of one another in the continuum. You just have to reach out and choose the moment you want to see."

"How?"

He smiled.

"Watch. Carefully."

He lowered his mental shields just enough to let her see the workings. Moving as slowly as he could, he focused on a moment when the toy was halfway up its string.

_There._

And there it was, both moments visible in the continuum, the yo-yo both halfway up its string and at the apex of its roll. He let his concentration relax, and the yo-yo snapped back to the present. Jenny's eyes were huge in her pale face.

"Can I do that?"

He smiled, letting his shields return. "Soon, maybe. With a little practice."

_I hope._

Both of them looked up at the loud clump of boots in the hall. A low, grating voice rang out.

"The enemies of the Empire will be executed for their crimes against Sontar!"

The Doctor glanced back at Jenny, quirking an eyebrow.

_Ready for a little exercise?_

She grinned at him.

_Oh I'm ready!_

An hour later, they were in a shuttle, the Doctor piloting their way back to Retesa and the TARDIS. The shuttle was cramped. The Sontarans, he was sure, were going to put out a bounty on him. Again. He smiled to himself. How many bounties did they have out on him? It was actually rather funny. He leaned sideways, trying to get his long, lean frame into a more comfortable position. It hadn't taken nearly as long as he'd thought it would to get loose and on their way. The Sontarans were breeding against intelligence again, most likely.

Shifting again, he glanced over at Jenny. She was sitting back, relaxed and easy. She was so different when she wasn't fighting. He actually felt rather sorry for the Sontarans who'd gotten in her way today. In one hand she was playing idly with the yo-yo. Every once in a while she'd get it rolling, then narrow her eyes at it, concentrating so hard that her mind surged with energy. But the yo-yo didn't take much notice. His lips quirked. Well, give it time.

Time. Today she'd shown some sign that she could see Time. A little fear had melted away in his mind when she'd described what she had been seeing. She had the ability. The potential. He'd been so afraid that she was missing that essential part of herself.

He smirked when she started to try some of the tricks he'd been doing.

"Hope you're going to untie those knots."

She shot him a wave of annoyance.

It was a two hour trip back to Retesa. Jenny played with her new toy the entire time.


	13. In Its Own Good Time

**In Its Own Good Time**

"You've got to reach inside, Jenny. Concentrate."

_I AM, dammit._

She hadn't said it, but she might as well have. The Doctor watched with rapt eyes as his daughter stared at the pebble in her hand. Maybe 'concentrate' was a poor word-choice. She was concentrating so hard that she'd lost her mental shielding. He could feel her nervousness and frustration, all the power roiling in her head, the psychic force she was pouring out. But the kelosite in her hand wasn't reacting. It lay in her hand, smooth, grey, and utterly quiet.

"I don't mean try _harder_." He said quietly. "I mean focus on what you're trying to do. It's like I said. This kelosite is full of chronon particles. Don't focus on making the stone glow. Focus on exciting those particles. Focus on the particles, Jenny. See them in your head. They're not moving much, are they? Now you want them to move faster. Push them."

Jenny glanced at him, her eyes intense, just a shade away from black. _He wants me to see something. But all I see's a stone with a little funny energy around it. I don't know what he's seeing. I still can't see it._ She nodded, and dropped her eyes back to the pebble. _But I'll try. I'll keep trying. I'm going to beat this._

The Doctor didn't let her thoughts worry him. So she hadn't seen the particles yet. It had only been two weeks, after all. She was only starting. And kelosite was the perfect place to start working on her time-sense. All children had started with kelosite, started playing with it at six and seven years old. The kelosite mineral was saturated with the particles that made up time itself, created the physical effects of ageing on matter at the subatomic level. The stone filled itself with chronon particles, attracted them and packed them in like a sponge absorbing water. He could feel the artron energy inside the particles pulsing, all packed inside that little grey rock, just waiting for something to bump the particles into each other and get them moving, let them release that power.

Was that a flicker? No. The stone remained pale and cool.

_Okay. New tactic._

"Here, Jenny. Follow me this time." He lowered his shields a bit, let her watch his mind work. He reached into the kelosite with his thoughts, moving as slow as he possibly could; added a tiny bio-electrical spark, a little nudge. The first particle moved in his mind's eye. It bumped two others. Bumped more. Chain reaction. The particles wobbled, tapped each other, released artron energy on contact. To his physical eyes, the stone on Jenny's palm was glowing a very soft amber. He grinned down at it, his face lit by the stone.

"One of the simplest ways to look at time, and still one of the most beautiful, you know." For a moment, father and daughter stared at the kelosite, glowing like a tiny gem in Jenny's hand. Then the Doctor lifted his eyes, let his concentration go. The glow faded.

"Your turn."

Jenny's concentration sharpened. She stared at the stone so hard that she forgot to blink.

The hope in the Doctor's eyes faded. _Nothing_.

Jenny's brow furrowed. _It's not working. It never works. _She glanced up at her father, her eyes frustrated and shamed.

The Doctor smiled at Jenny, masking his own emotions with the ease of long practice.

"No worries. The Capitol wasn't built in a day, after all." He folded her fingers over the stone, stuck his hands back in his pockets, and turned on his heel.

"Just keep practicing. I'm going to pop into one of the gardens for a bit. Need to run a check on that hydroponic under layer for the seres trees and the roses. See you in a bit."

Jenny nodded, and turned her eyes back to the pebble of kelosite as her father strode out of the room.

The Doctor held his relaxed, cocksure posture until he was halfway down the corridor. Then he let it slide. The smile faded, his face becoming lined and still. His thin frame seemed to drain of the energy that so often infused it, leaving him pale and wan. His head tipped back slightly as he walked, and his eyebrows quirked, as if something pained him. He suddenly looked every bit his age. Alone, he let his eyes grow wide and dark and blank.

He'd been so _sure_ that working with the kelosite would stimulate her sense of Time. _So _sure. Ever since that day in the cells two weeks ago. She had been seeing Time. Hadn't she?

What was he doing? He was no professor. He was an adventurer. Scientist. Sometimes a diplomat. Sometimes, rarely, a politician. Oh, he liked to talk and explain, but he was rubbish as a teacher. He'd never been any good explaining things to his daughters, thank Rassilon the teachers at the Academy had handled most of their educations. He'd had a terrible time with Suz, trying to be patient enough to let her learn. And she'd had her secondary education. Jenny didn't know the first steps.

He opened the door to the garden. He was letting himself get discouraged too easily. She was only beginning. She could see time signatures, he knew that. She did have the ability, latent as it was. It was frustrating, yes. Disappointing, yes. But it would get better. He smiled to himself.

Then the smile faded, fast as it had come. The Doctor shook his head. Was he really that desperate to lie to himself? No. It wouldn't get better. It couldn't. If he had forgotten, as if he could forget, his world was gone. The Untempered Schism, the tool used to fully form a child's conception of Time by showing them its patterns throughout the fabric of eternity, was gone. Jenny was Gallifreyan. But she was no Time Lord. She could never be initiated. There was no way to stimulate her senses fully, open her mind to the true workings of Time. She was missing the part of herself that was most essential to what he was, what she should be.

What if she could never see the beauty and wonder that was Time, flowing all around her? What if the best she'd ever manage was a good technical understanding, coupled with hunches and glimpses from the corner of her eye? She'd never see the true _beauty _all around her. Never be truly what she was supposed to be. To be only part of what you were meant to be…

And he couldn't do a thing about it. Not a thing.

He kicked the nearest thing he could find as he wandered through the garden, a very large stone. It should have hurt. He barely noticed. Anger and frustration ran through him like ice.

He couldn't open a schism. It had taken an entire staff of senior Time Lords, members of the High Council, to maintain the Schism in a stable state without threat to the time continuum or the fabric of reality. There was no way he could do something so dangerous on his own. And even if he did, her brain was nearly mature. What effect would the Schism have on a nearly formed mind encountering it for the first time, rather than a young, impressionable consciousness? Impossible. In every form of the word.

But oh, if only he could. If only…

His brows shot up for a moment. What about the Heart of the TARDIS? Showing her that? It held an imprint of the Vortex. Perhaps…

_Are you completely daft? As open as she is, as psychically uncontrolled? She'd lose herself inside it. It killed you last time you tried it, and you've got experience. You can't, and you know you can't._

He kicked another rock. It rolled down a small incline, splashing his trainers with water from a small stream. The Doctor sighed.

_Enough. Calm down._

He would simply have to adjust. His daughter was going to be handicapped. Other people made it through life without the ability to see time. Most other species, in fact. And she was smart, fast, incredibly good with gymnastics. To anyone else, she was light years above average. He was the only one who saw what was missing. How much was missing.

He dropped himself on to a small bench, staring off blankly.

Well. Let it stay that way, then. She'd grow into it, he'd told her. It took time, he'd told her. Let her think that. She didn't need to know what she was missing. She never needed to know.

He sat still, his shoulders slumped, eyes vacant. Another secret for him to keep.

**Author's Note: Thanks to Lindenharp for the Kelosite idea.**


	14. Compare and Contrast

**Compare and Contrast**

He didn't understand.

Jenny stormed into her room, kicking the door closed behind her. She pulled off her boots, throwing them. One thudded into the wall. The other dented her dresser. Whirling on her heel, she kicked out at her sleeping-mat, slamming it against the wall. _Damn the man! Damn, Damn,DAMN!_ He never understood! He was so worried about making sure she was safe that he didn't let her _breathe._ Yes, he had more experience than she did. All right. Of course he did, he was exactly a hundred and eighty-one times her age. That didn't mean he had to treat her like a _child_!

He hadn't even let her begin to act. She could have taken the tactical advantage. He hadn't known what she had been about to do. She had known what she was doing; if he'd waited and let her do it he would have seen that. But no. He just grabbed her and shouted at her to get out of the way. He'd called her a silly little fool.

"_You silly little fool! Get away from it!"_

Her body was burning with nervous energy. Her hands balled themselves into fists, and she punched out at the wall, pain shooting up her arm.

He never let her _act._ She'd lived her entire life without him around. And then the second he meets her, pow! He's in charge. She'd done pretty well for herself, thank you very much, and had handled four years completely without him!

The tension was still there. Searching for something to do, she picked up her boots and threw them into the closet where they belonged. Turning on her heel, she pulled her mat back into its usual position, kicked it a few times.

The words of their argument repeated in her head. She still couldn't understand what he'd been so angry about. She'd acted to seize the advantage in the situation. She could have done it. Would have done it. But he said she didn't know what she was doing.

"_You didn't understand the situation, you didn't know what you were doing, and you didn't know what effect your actions would have! What did you think you were doing?! Did you even think? Did you?"_

Of course she'd thought about the effect. Her act would have resolved the situation. She tried to tell him that. But she'd ended up yelling just as loud as him. The words _never _came out right, and feeling everything she did made it that much harder to put sentences together. Every time she opened her mouth the wrong thing came out. It just made them both angrier. She hated this feeling, dammit! She hated being angry at him. She had so much she wanted to say, to explain, to make him see that she had been right. But everything she said seemed to make it worse. It all sat in her ribcage, building pressure, anger and frustration roiling inside her. Emotions. He had yelled at her for that too.

"_You're so busy running on your emotions that you don't care what you might have done out there! Getting yourself killed would have been the least of it! You walked right into that situation, and knowing full well that you didn't have the knowledge to undo what had been done on your own! You may be an adolescent with a reset button built in, but you are NOT immortal! How can I trust you, when I can't even be sure you won't blow __**yourself**__ to Kingdom Come?"_

He couldn't trust her. He didn't trust her; he'd made it obvious enough. And not just here. He made it so clear that he didn't believe she could understand or handle most of what they ran into. Oh, he encouraged her all the time. Told her she was getting better. But when she really had a chance to test her mettle, he stopped her cold. He never let her try.

"_You're young and untrained and so far behind that you can't understand half of what happened out there! You haven't even started learning!"_

Training. That was what it always came down to. He didn't believe she knew enough. But she was _trying_. Didn't he see how hard she was trying to learn? She knew she didn't learn fast enough. She knew she wasn't as good as he wanted her to be. She didn't miss the looks he gave her sometimes; the disappointment, the pain, the weariness and frustration. She hated it when he was frustrated with her. He looked at her like she was defective. Like she didn't have the capability to learn. He looked at her like-

_Like an echo._

All the bottled pain in her chest shot up into her throat. Echo. There it was again. It was one of the first things he'd ever said to her.

"_You're an echo, that's all. A Time Lord is so much more." _ There had been such pain and anger in his eyes that day. And she'd seen it again tonight. He was so _good_ at papering over it, he'd spent months covering it up. But sometimes, she thought that was how he really saw her. As an echo, something defective and lacking and failing that he was saddled with now. Maybe it was. Maybe she was. Maybe she'd never live up to it all. Maybe she'd never get it right. She tried _so _hard. But she always seemed to make some gigantic blunder. _Why _did she have to mess up all the time? She couldn't see like she should or think like she should or fight like she should; she couldn't even talk to her own father properly.

"_You're an echo, that's all."_

Her eyes stung, and her chest felt as if it had ten atmospheres of pressure inside it. She slammed her fist into the mat again; then let her head fall into her hands.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

She didn't understand.

The Doctor paced the perimeter of the console room, kicked the strut of the console chair and set it spinning. His dark eyes blazed, and his thin body was taunt as a live wire. The stupid _kid_. She could have gotten herself killed. She could have gotten herself and everyone else killed. All because she didn't watch what was going on. She was so busy trying to fix the situation that she didn't take time to _see_ it. He wanted to shout. But there was no outlet for this anger. Jenny had already slammed her way out of the room. Not before she'd damned him, though.

"_You don't get it do you? You just…you…oh, damn you!"_

He'd rather be eaten by a slar than go after her right about now. His hands flexed nervously. He needed something to do with his hands, somewhere useful to channel all this emotion. It was burning through his system, and his hearts beat a frantic tattoo even now. His hands balled into fists. She could have died. He couldn't let that happen. _Couldn't._

"_You never let me do anything!"_

The fire in her eyes had taken him off guard. She was so _angry. _Well, at the moment so was he. He was incensed. Hadn't he told her to wait? Told her to hold her position? Maybe she should have phrased it as an order. _Then_ it might have gotten through to that _soldier_ side of her. _Soldier. _ He snorted. Barreling in like a pneumatic ram, no regard for where she was going or what she could have done. Crazy, irresponsible, never thinking ahead. She leaped before she looked, every time. And half of what she leaped into she didn't understand. She didn't know the danger she'd been facing. She assumed everything could be fixed with gunfire and spit and guts. Preferably not _her _guts. Not splattered somewhere. That was in her timelines too, along with about a million other ways to die.

It had been so close this time. _So_ close. If he'd taken any more time, even a second longer, she would have jumped right into the middle of the situation. Why hadn't she listened? He'd tried to tell her, but his fear had gotten the better of him and he'd ended up yelling instead. Why was he letting this get him so out of control?

"_I had the situation under control! I've handled stuff like this before! I have lived on my own, you know!"_ Yes, she had lived on her own; it was only through luck and superior physiology that she had survived at all. What would happen when her luck ran out, he didn't want to know. She had all his worst traits in her. Curiosity to the power of infinity. Cockiness. And that indelible Time Lord belief that you're right and you know what to do. He kicked the wall. The TARDIS shot him a wave of annoyance.

Teenager! Crazy adolescent! He'd never had so much trouble with anyone he'd taken along for the ride. Well, maybe Ace. But Jenny had her beat in every respect. She acted like such a child.

"_I'm not a child!" _But she was. There was so much she didn't know, so much danger, and he was forced into teaching her on the fly. She deserved better. But this was the best he could do.

Mostly his friends accidentally got into trouble. Jenny bloody attracted danger like a magnet! And she didn't listen. He'd had a very good reason for giving her the instructions he had. Sometimes it seemed like she _never_ listened to him. Their life was dangerous. It was always going to be dangerous. She needed to understand that. Because he wasn't always going to be able to protect her. Even today, he'd almost been unable to reach her. One day things might go wrong. He swore it never would. But how often had he made that promise, and failed to keep it? His track record rather spoke for itself. The Doctor made another circuit of the console room. He tried. Tried _so hard._ But he knew he couldn't keep her safe forever. And it terrified him. Every time things started to go south he was afraid for her. If she didn't learn some common sense, some discretion… she had to learn not to go off half cocked. Or she might-

"_The Child will die in battle."_

The Doctor sighed. It had been coming back into his mind more and more lately. Ever since he'd been separated from her the first time, a month ago. The Beast's prophecy. At the time he hadn't known what it had meant. He hadn't known any children in years. But now…

_Stop it. That was an attack ploy, nothing more._

And yet it was in his mind so often. There were deaths that allowed no regeneration. He knew that so very well. She was always in danger because of him. Because of the way he was and the way he lived. She'd even said it.

"_Wherever we go, something happens!"_

He couldn't lose Jenny.

"_Wherever we go, something happens! You can't keep me out of it forever!"_

The Doctor stood, his head bowed, the console light picking out his silhouette.

"_The Child will die in battle."_

He dropped his lean frame on to the console chair. His thin face was pale, gaunt in the half-light.

"_The Child will die in battle."_

The Doctor sat perfectly still, dark eyes staring into space.

He had to keep her safe. Had to.


	15. Storms

**Storms**

The Doctor swirled the tea in the bottom of his cup, glowering at it. Five days. _Five days _she'd been acting like this. She barely spoke to him. Every moment that she wasn't specifically assigned a task, she disappeared into the corridors. She'd gained enough skill to close off her emotions, and the TARDIS was helping her keep to herself. The worst of it was, he didn't know why she was acting this way. He'd tried asking her.

"Jenny, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, sir." She'd said, face impassive.

"Jenny, why're you upset?"

"I'm not upset, sir."And she'd walked away.

"Jenny, what's going on?"

"Nothing, sir. Do you want me to replace the circuit now?"

Her face was calm when she spoke to him, her eyes remote. Their conversations were short and clipped. She did her work with a stiff economy of movement. It was driving the Doctor up the wall. Yesterday he'd snapped; turned around and yelled at her.

"Jenny! Stop sulking around and talk to me!"

She'd looked at him, her face a study in marble and sapphires. Her expression was perfectly calm. Yet it managed to convey a cold anger.

"What is _wrong_?"

"Nothing, sir." Then she'd turned on her heel and marched off.

The Doctor finished his tea and stalked out, hands in the pockets of his blue suit. What was going on? Why was she so angry at him? Yes, they'd had a fight. But that was fairly normal. He'd found that you could talk reasonably to Jenny once you let her blow off some steam. So that was how he handled it. Talk to her until she yelled, then talk to her until it was worked out. But this was different.

He pushed open the door to the console room, stalked inside. They were in stasis somewhere in the middle of an emission nebulae, and the TARDIS had picked up plenty of energy off it. Good. She'd been needing a top-up. He dropped into the console chair, resting his feet on the trim of the console. His eyes glanced blankly over the readouts for the area. How was it that he could figure out difficulties of enormous proportions on a daily basis, but he couldn't fathom his own daughter?

Somewhere in one of his pockets, something rang. The Doctor shot to attention, eyes puzzled and alert. He burrowed his hands into both his pockets. His face brightened, his hand reappearing with the slim cell phone clutched in long fingers.

"Hello…wonder what you're ringing for. Hope there's not trouble back on Earth, not just yet anyway. That's exactly the _last _thing I need right now."

He flipped the phone open.

"Martha, hello!"

The Doctor's brows drew together.

"Who are you? And how did you get this number?"

He listened for a moment, and his eyebrows shot up.

"Luke? Sara Jane's… All right, all right. Luke, listen to me. Just calm down, tell me what happened."

He listened.

"All right, Luke. I'm coming. I'll be there shortly."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The Doctor followed Luke up the stairs. Sarah Jane had, he observed, set up a very nice home. Not that he got to observe much of it. Luke had essentially answered the door, said "You're the Doctor?" and taken off down the hall when he got an affirmative answer, talking the entire time.

"I don't know what's wrong. I was downloading a video from the internet, and Mr. Smith offered his help, and Mum's away on vacation. If she finds out she'll never let me stay home alone again. And then he starts doing _this_ and for a second I thought he was going mad again, he did that once, but I don't think so, he's just-he's been like this for six hours! I tried calling Captain Jack, but he's busy, and nobody else I know knows anything about anything like this, and I can't even get him to respond to me, except to come out. I tried running data-trails, computational reroutes, anything, but he's just shut me out." They were hurrying up a set of unpainted wooden stairs now, into-an attic? Luke pushed inside, into wide aerie furnished with a nice mishmash of furniture, books, and bits of technology from at least four systems.

"Mr. Smith, I need you!"

The Doctor's head snapped around. The breast of the chimney was opening. Behind it was-

The Doctor's eyes widened. "Oh, aren't you beautiful!"

A complex computer system unfurled from within the brickwork, the partition of the chimney opening into wings covered in controls and switches. The wide wall-mounted screen glowed brightly, displaying an ever-changing panoply of crystalline structures.

The boy beside him stepped forward, his eyes huge. "He's not talking. He's still not talking."

The Doctor glanced at him. "He talks?" The boy nodded nervously.

"Yes. It's like having another adult around. He even said I couldn't download one of the pictures I wanted to see. Inappropriate content, he said. It was rated R." He glanced over his shoulder. "Can you not tell my mum that?"

The Doctor smirked. "Lips sealed." Striding over to the control pad, he slipped on his glasses and tapped a few keys, getting a feel for the system.

"Oh, nice work here! And these connections, marvelous, for this timeframe at least. But what's powering-" He followed several cords, then his eyes shot back to the screen.

"Xylok! Oh, haven't seen anything Xylok in years! Thought they were wiped out for the most part. Bio- crystal liquid and electropathic pulse integration manifold feed through the computer. Did this land here by accident? Oh, I have got to talk to Sarah Jane about this! Beautiful! Hello, Mr. Xylok! Or, does he have a name?"

"He's Mr. Smith."

The Doctor grinned broadly. "Mr. Smith! Oh, good name! Hello, Mr. Smith! Now let's see what's going on with you. What's wrong…"

"All systems functional, Master."

The Doctor's grin widened. "Well hello to you too, K-9! How's life?"

The little metal body came whirring from a corner of the room. "All my circuits are functioning at full capacity, Master."

"Very nice! Come'n give me a hand, then. Need to know what's wrong with this lad."

"No difficulties with the computational unit have been documented, Master. Young Master is disturbed and acting inappropriately; Mistress has been alerted."

"What?!!" The boy shouted. "You told Mum? You told _Mum?_ When? How long ago?" He dashed to the window, staring.

"One hour and twenty minutes ago." The robotic voice replied, chipper. The boy blanched.

"Oh no!!" With another frantic glance out the window, he rushed back.

"Doctor, can you fix him, can you fix him before Mum comes back? Please!!"

The Doctor held both arms up. "Okay, okay, Luke, calm down now! Nothing's wrong. Actually, Mr. Smith was just ignoring you. You're safe, you're not his main operator, and he wanted to watch the movie he just downloaded. So he just put you off. I was just working with him while you two talked. No problem. Relax! By the way, this is an awful long picture you got. What did you download?"

Luke stared at him, eyes still huge.

"What?"

"What'd you download? Looks like he's going through a box set or something."

"A few seasons of the Star Trek series."

The Doctor stared at the boy, amused and incredulous. "Star Trek? _Star Trek_?"

"It was recommended by a friend of mine. She said it's good." the boy stared at the Doctor, who was shaking his head, grinning.

"All this panic and fuss for a load of _Star Trek _episodes. An' I expected the end of the world; at least that's what I usually end up with when I get a call. You humans." He glanced up at the sound of a car in the drive.

"Ah. I 'spect that'll be Sarah Jane then. Lovely!" He turned on his heel, and noticed Jenny, who had just stepped into the room, eyes analyzing.

"You lock the door behind you before you left?"

"Hmm?" She was so busy exploring. Then she glanced at him. Her face set again.

"Oh. Yes."

The Doctor sighed to himself. Apparently she was going to keep up the act.

Her eyes had fallen on K-9. She dropped to her haunches. "Hello."

K-9 rolled forward, all his sensors directed at her.

"Greetings." He extended his analysis unit, touched it briefly to Jenny's hand.

"Sensors detect non-human genetic code. Extrapolating-sensors detect Gallifreyan DNA pattern. You are of Gallifreyan origin. You share DNA markers with the Doctor-Master. You are offspring of the Doctor-Master." His head bobbed on its short neck.

"Welcome, young Mistress."

Jenny grinned. "Thanks."

She glanced up at the boy and the complex machine surrounded in brick. She cocked her head.

"Oh. Neat. Can I take a-"

Just as she stood, another person stepped into the attic.

"Luke, are you up he-"

Sarah Jane froze. She looked from her son, to the Doctor, to Jenny, to her son again.

"Welcome back." A smooth voice issued from the computer. Luke glanced at it with something like disgust. The Doctor smiled.

"Sarah Jane. Sorry to drop in without notice. Don't suppose you've had tea yet, have you?"

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Sarah Jane handed a cup of tea across to the bright young girl on the other side of the table.

"But I only-"

"You called the Doctor, for a little bit of a mistake with our computer! Really Luke, use that mind of yours!"

"But Mum, it's-"

"Doctor, have a crumpet. You were way out of line and you know it, Luke!"

"Really, Sarah Jane, I don't mind a call, in fact-"

"Yes, but he should have better sense than that! Oh, like to try a crumpet dear?"

"Sure. Try anything once." Jenny pulled one off the plate.

"You'll love those, Jenny."

The girl glanced at the Doctor, and glanced away again.

Sarah Jane glowered at her adopted son across the table. There had been a rattling five-part conversation down the hall and into the kitchen, wherein she had been introduced to the young woman who was apparently called Jenny, and found out through K-9 exactly why the Doctor was there and what Luke had been up to with Mr. Smith. She was not letting Luke forget this for quite some time. _Quite_ some time. He glanced at her, then across at the Doctor as a safer alternative.

"Doctor?"  
"Hmm?" the Doctor asked, biting into his pastry.

"Is Gallifreyan your species? Was that what K-9 was talking about with the scan?"

Sarah Jane glanced up.

"Scan? Why was K-9 running a species scan on you, Doctor?"

"Washname." The Doctor said indistinctly. He swallowed.

"Sorry. Wasn't me he was scanning. The old dog's as perceptive as ever, and he gave Jenny the once-over right away. Probably gave him a bit of a shock. Sorry, Sarah Jane, but I'm going to have to ask you to keep a bit of a secret. Sort of important, I'd rather not have it blabbed all over just now, not just yet. Too many interested parties out and about who'd love to learn this, and once one person knows it everybody'll know it. So, I guess- well, I mean I trust the blokes at UNIT, 'specially since Martha's there now, and I trust Jack, mostly, it's just I'd rather be safe than sorry. Do you mind?"

By now everyone at the table was staring at the Doctor . Sarah Jane quirked an eyebrow. _Good Lord, he does talk a lot in this regeneration. _She could have sworn somebody laughed. She froze for a moment-then realized it was probably noise from outside. She took a sip of her tea. She set down her cup. It gave her just enough time to process everything he had said.

"Doctor, are you saying what I think you're saying?"  
He glanced at her. That questioning look was the same, even if the face wasn't.

"What do you think I'm saying?"

"I believe you're saying that Jenny is-well, yours."

He nodded. "Right in one. Long story, rather complicated, and sort of-"

"I'm a progenated clone." Jenny said quietly.

"Cloning?" Luke said, sitting forward in his chair. "You're a clone?"

"Yes." Jenny replied. Sarah Jane glanced at her. The tone of her voice had an odd note to it.

"That's amazing!" Luke said, eyes wide. "I don't meet many clones. It's still not used on human beings with human technology. They say it's too dangerous."

"Is it?" Jenny asked, "I don't know much about this timeframe."

"Where are you from then?"

"Just about everywhere, I guess. I was born in the forty-ninth century, if you're using the original Byzantine calendar, but…"

"Really? Here on Earth?"

"No, about two billion light years from here actually. Why do you know so much about cloning?"

Sarah Jane glanced at the Doctor. He was watching the two youngsters with a small half-smile.

She leaned over.

"What do you say we take all these dishes into the kitchen, let the young people talk a bit?"

The Doctor glanced at her. _He looks tired._

"Sounds good. Did you ever get a dishwasher?"

She gave him a disparaging glance."Of course. You think I'd spend any more time on house cleaning than I had to?"

Smiling, they gathered up the dishes, pulling them out from under the children who barely paused in their conversation as they handed over their teacups. Actually, Jenny wasn't quite a child. She looked to be somewhere around eighteen or twenty, though she spoke to Luke as an equal.

The Doctor balanced a dangerous number of dishes on top of each other as they walked into the kitchen.

"Luke seems well. A bit advanced for his age too, not to mention his century. You know he was talking about running computational reroutes on that system of yours?"

Sarah Jane rolled her eyes, pulling open the dishwasher. "I know. The boy's too bright for his own good in some ways." She dropped a plate in, and reached out to steady the tottering pile of dishes in the Doctor's hands.

"It's nice to see him talking so easily with someone. He's adopted, and at times I'm afraid he feels a bit out of place. Now tell me about Jenny. How did you find her?"

The Doctor handed her another cup. "I didn't, exactly. Well, not the first time. Landed on this planet called Messaline. They were fighting this war, y'see, and breeding soldiers through a progenation machine to keep up a steady supply. I sort of-well, got stuck in the middle of it, got a sample taken from me, and Jenny's the result. Accident, really."

His friend shot him a look. "I hope that's not the way you explained it to her."

The Doctor glanced up, brows drawn.

"I don't have to tell Jenny anything about her birth. She was there for it."

"Really, Doctor,-"

"No, really. Born at the adolescent stage. Ready to fight from the moment she drew breath. And she used to carry a gun."

That got Sarah Jane off track."A gun?!"

The Doctor nodded. "Yep, a gun. Big threatening firearm. Almost as long as her leg. And you know, when somebody carries a firearm like that, it just begs for a situation to use it. Near drove me mad."

Sarah Jane smiled ruefully. "Well, I know about children driving you wild. Witness Luke's behavior today. I still can't believe he tracked down your number and called _you _rather than just admit to _me_ what he'd done."

The Doctor nodded. "Seems like that's universal. Kids not telling their parents things, I mean." For a moment, his eyes seemed to lose focus, staring into space. Sarah Jane studied his face.

"Doctor, are you all right?"

He smiled, a quiet little expression.

"Ah, you know me, Sarah. I'm always all right."

"And you think I believe that?"

The Doctor glanced away.

"I'm fine. Just got something on my mind, is all." Then he glanced up, his enthusiasm returning. "Now, tell me about your friend Mr. Smith."

The Doctor and Jenny ended up staying for the afternoon. Two hours into their stay, Sarah Jane knew something was wrong. She wasn't an investigative reporter for nothing, after all. It was in the looks. Jenny smiled at Luke and was very respectful to Sarah Jane, aside from asking questions that would have been rude in other circumstances. But to her father she was positively cold. When the Doctor glanced at her, his eyes were pained. His lips turned down in a frustration when his daughter looked away.

After a few hours, Sarah Jane headed into the kitchen to start dinner. She pulled a few chicken thighs from the freezer, dropped them into the sink to defrost, and began to mix the sauce. Boots clicked on the floor behind her.

"Is there any soda? Luke sent me in here for it."

"In the refrigerator. Help yourself to anything you see in there; dinner's in two hours."

Boot heels clicked again. Jenny peered over Sarah Jane's shoulder.

"What are you cooking?"

"Rosemary Chicken. It goes very well with the pepper carrots your father makes. Only thing he really knows how to cook, as far as I know. He said he'd give a go on making it tonight."

"He cooks other things too."

"Does he now? Last time he cooked I think the house we were in nearly burned down."

She glanced at Jenny with a smile. The girl looked at her, her face still-and looked away again.

Well, now she had to see to this.

"Would you like to help?"

Jenny glanced up again.

"Sure. Show me what to do."

Sarah Jane pulled out the recipe, showing it to Jenny. The girl glanced at the recipe, then started moving around the kitchen, pulling down boxes, filling a pot with water.

"These are your measurement tools?" she asked as the older woman pulled out a set of measuring cups and spoons.

"Yep."Sarah Jane stuck the chicken in the pot as Jenny set it on the stove. "Jenny?"

The girl looked at her again.

"Is everything all right with you? You and your father?"

"Of course, ma'am."

"Really? Because the Doctor seems quite upset and you're up in arms as well. Is everything going well?"

"Of course it is, ma'am." Jenny grated pepper into the bowl she was using, her eyes down, body stiff.

"You know that's the same way Luke talks to me when he doesn't want to discuss something." Sarah Jane commented, peeling a potato over the sink. "I suppose teenage pique is universal."

"Ma'am?"

"You had a bit of a tiff with your father, am I right?"

The girl looked away. Sarah Jane set down the potato. "Oh, come on now, you can tell me. I used to travel with him, I know how frustrating he can be. And you're his daughter, so he must be even worse on you."

Jenny perked up. "You traveled with him?"

Sarah Jane nodded. "Oh yes. For several years, in fact. Mind you, he was quite a bit older, and a bit less pleasant."

"And did he trust you?"

For a moment, Sarah Jane stared at the girl's smooth face, a little shocked.

"I think he did. I hope he does."

The girl faced her now, her expression inquiring, almost eager. "And how did you earn that? How did you prove yourself?"

The girl asked the strangest questions. But her eyes were so intent on Sarah Jane's that she knew she had to give an answer.

"Well… I suppose…

"Sarah? Room for me in there?" The Doctor popped his head into the room. Luke's high voice cut the air from the living room.

"Jenny? Are you going to bring the drinks?"

Jenny started, turned. "I'm coming!" To Sarah Jane, she said "Sorry, Ma'am, got to go." She set down the pepper pot, grabbed two cans out of the refrigerator, and was out the door. Sarah Jane shook her head.

"What was all that about, then?" the Doctor asked, glancing over his shoulder as he stepped into the room. Sarah Jane shrugged.

"Just a bit of conversation over the cookpot. I notice Jenny inherited your reading ability."

"Yep. Good thing too." The Doctor glanced around the room. "Erm…anything I can lend a hand with? Maybe? Possibly?" His eyes were large and hopeful. Sarah Jane laughed.

"I haven't had this much help in the kitchen in ages! You can chop up potatoes, if you like."

The Doctor's face brightened.

"Right! Your wish is my command."

Sarah Jane stifled a chuckle. "You never would have said that in your other body."

"Ah, well, I grew out of being pompous. No real point in it, is there? I know how good I am, don't need to go acting high and mighty about it." He lined the potatoes up, and began to chop with a bit more enthusiasm than his old friend thought was probably good for him.

"I'm getting rather good at this, you know." He said. Sarah Jane smiled.

"Yes, I heard you could cook now. What brought that about?"

"Oh, having Jenny around, I suppose. She hadn't had most of the foods that I absolutely _love, _and so Ihad to show her what she was missing. Actually, do you know that cake looks very odd if you forget any of the ingredients?"

"That's why you follow the recipe, Doctor."

"Well where's the fun in that?"

For a moment, they worked in companionable silence.

"Sarah?"

"Yes?"

"How d'you like being a mum?"

She glanced back at him, eyebrows rising.

"Doctor?"

"Just asking. How do you like being a parent, I mean? You doing well with it?"

She considered a moment. "I suppose so. I hope so. What brought this out?"

"Oh, I don't know. Me being rubbish at it. Maybe." The Doctor ran fingers through his hair, sighing. "I just don't know what I'm doing sometimes. She's such a…_teenager._ Such an adolescent."

He turned away, talking as he dumped the chopped potatoes into the water. "She's quite bright, quick, and so good with fighting that it scares me." He pulled a bag of carrots from her refrigerator. "But there are other things…She's got no patience, for one thing." He dropped the bag on the counter with an audible 'thunk'. Sarah Jane smiled.

"Sounds like someone else I know."

"It isn't funny, Sarah. She…all the time, she's in danger. And she doesn't see that. And she can't see…and I want her safe, but I can't be sure to keep her that way. I try, and we end up fighting. I try to tell her, and we end up fighting. Seems like all we do these days is end up fighting. You ever get this kind of thing from Luke?"

"Actually, I tend to have the opposite problem. Luke rather assumes everything is his fault, and blames himself accordingly. But I wouldn't be surprised if Jenny isn't doing something similar, in her own way."

"Oh? She say anything like that?" the Doctor asked, "Anything interesting? Any girlish confidences?"

"Doctor, if she had shared 'girlish confidences', I wouldn't be telling a _man._"

"I'm not a man!" he said over his shoulder, his voice hurt, "I'm her father."

"Yes, and I'd have liked my parents to hear everything I said in confidence."

There was a loud clang of pots behind her. Sarah Jane sighed. "It wasn't what she _said, _exactly, but you can see it in her."

"The fact that she's boiling mad at me?"

She shot the Time Lord a look. "For a brilliant man, Doctor, at times you can be uncommonly lacking in intelligence. Pull out a few teacups. That cupboard, on your left."

The Doctor frowned, opening the cupboard. "All right, what do you see from your lovely feminine point of view, then?"

"That something's bothering her. She's hurt, and keeping it to herself. I don't know how different your psychology is from ours, but from what I see, Jenny's acting like any young lady who's upset. She's angry, yes, but she's also miserable and confused. I'm surprised you haven't noticed it. You'd pick that up better than I."

The Doctor shrugged. "In some ways. Jenny took the lessons on psycho-shielding pretty close to heart. I can't see anything unless I do a bit of prying, which isn't something I'd really like to stoop to."

"But don't you see it in the way she moves? The way she looks at you?"

The Doctor shrugged again. "All she lets me see is anger." He set down two of the three teacups, and glanced down, studying the pattern of the china in his hands.

Sarah Jane took the cup, glancing up at him. His eyes, now that she got a good look at them, seemed so much older than she remembered.

"Then look closer, Doctor. Because you're missing something."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

After dinner, Sarah Jane asked the Doctor up to the attic to get a bit of advice, discuss old times and several of her finds, while Luke and Jenny claimed places on the couch, chatting and watching movies. They were up most of the night, talking, laughing, discussing and debating.

"Good Lord!" Sarah Jane said, coming down the stairs and catching sight of the clock. "Is that really the time? I can't believe you kept me up so late, Doctor."

"It's only–" The Doctor paused a moment, thinking, "Four hours to sunrise, now. Two o'clock in the morning. Now you said the man had no face? No face, dressed in black? And feeding on chaos…"

"Exactly. But we can talk it over in the morning." Sarah Jane laughed. "Luke and I need to sleep, even if you don't."

"I sleep. Just-"

"Not much, I know. Now you're not flying off tonight. Let me set up one of the guest bedrooms for you, no, I'm not taking no for an answer. I'll put sheets and pillows on the beds right now. Luke-"

"I'm not named after Skywal-" Luke turned. "Mum, am I named after Luke Skywalker?"

"No, Luke, you're not."

"Not that it would be a bad namesake. Rather lovely, those movies. Completely barmy, but lovely all the same." The Doctor stepped over to see the device the boy was working on.

"Ooh, nice work you're doing there. Now have you tried doing this?"

"Luke," Sarah Jane said, "Come and help me set up the spare room."

"Okay. Just a moment…"

Sarah Jane rolled her eyes. Jenny glanced from man to boy, and stood.

"I'll help you. They're busy."

Sarah Jane shot a disparaging look to the couch. "Thank you, Jenny. I don't know where you learned such good manners. Come on, up stairs."

Up the stairs, Jenny and Sarah Jane pulled linens from a closet, walking into one of the spare bedrooms. "You can sleep in here, and your father can sleep right down the hall. Here we are, fresh linen. Hold that end of the sheet." They fitted the first sheet, and spread the second.

"Any bit of technology, hey?" Sarah Jane said. Jenny shot her a quizzical glance.

"I was talking about your father. Any bit of technology and he's distracted for ages. He's always been like that, you know."

"Oh."

She'd gone back into her shell again. Sarah Jane sighed inwardly.

"So, what you were saying about trust, down in the kitchen. Don't you think the Doctor trusts you?"

"No."

"But why do you say that?"

"Because he doesn't." Jenny pulled the sheet tight, threw the blanket on to the bed.

"That's not much of an answer." Sarah Jane chided lightly. Jenny grabbed the pillows, tossing them onto the bed with a bit more than the necessary force.

"But it's true. Wherever we go, it's like he's watching me. Trying to hold me back. I was born a fighter. It's my inheritance. But he doesn't trust me. Not really. He doesn't think I have any ability. He acts like-"

"Like a parent?"

Those lovely blue eyes turned to meet hers. Sarah Jane smiled softly.

"Jenny, did you ever think that the Doctor might be trying to _protect _you? He's not trying to hold you back, my girl. He's trying to make sure you're safe. I do the same thing for Luke. Any parent would."

For a moment, Jenny stared at her, her eyes wide and so blue that they were nearly black.

"I…it's…" The girl stood, frozen, staring at Sarah Jane with eyes full of pain, frustration, and confusion. Sarah Jane could almost feel it. Then Jenny broke the stare, turned away, and rushed out of the room.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The Doctor stepped out into the cool evening. The night breeze carried the scent of roses from next door, car exhaust from the street, the peculiar tang that precluded an English rain. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched lights in two of the upstairs rooms go out. Everyone safe and sound in bed. Luke had nearly been dragged upstairs by his adopted mother. A small smile flickered across the Doctor's lips. It had been good of Sarah Jane to offer him a room for the night, but he had slept three hours the night before, and at the moment he wasn't remotely tired.

Hands in his trouser pockets, the Doctor strolled into his friend's small garden, glancing up at the sky. The bright moon hung high above, tipping tree branches and rooftops in silver. Orion was out, and if he squinted he could just make out the off-blue color of a nebulae in the old fellow's sword, twinkling just like another star from this vantage point.

In just a bit, Andromeda was going to come into view. He'd have to find a decent seat to watch it from. The Doctor glanced around; then he paused, his eye caught by something bright.

It was Jenny. She was curled up on the small garden swing, legs tucked underneath her, head tipped back as she watched the stars. The Doctor took a step closer, shielding his presence lest he disturb her. Her face was so young in the moonlight. Young and yearning and so _sad_. Sitting alone in the silver light, she looked like a small child who'd gotten lost.

The Doctor's brow wrinkled. _Sarah Jane was right._

He took a step closer to the swing. Jenny seemed to freeze. Though her posture didn't change, every trace of expression abruptly disappeared. He could have sworn he could see her mask sliding in to place.

_Well, in for a penny, in for a pound._

He dropped down on the swing beside Jenny, his eyes fixed on the heavens. His daughter glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, glanced away again.

"You know England doesn't get many nights like this. Mostly it rains."

"Hmm."

The Doctor paused. Then he tried another gambit.

"You got along with Luke fairly well."

"He's nice."

"You know he's a clone too? Or rather a sort of composite chimera. Load of rather unpleasant blokes called the Bane grew him. Still can't figure how they got all the way out here. He tell you that?"

"Yes."

"Rather nice, don't you think?" The Doctor ventured brightly. "You not being the only one."

"Sure."

He tried again. "He doesn't seem to have much trouble at all with it, does he?"

"He has the advantage." Jenny said quietly. The Doctor turned his head, watching her.

"Oh? What makes you think so?"

"He's more intelligent than the average member of his species. A lot more."

"You're no slouch yourself."

"Around humans."

This time he turned to face her.

"Is that what you're worried about? Not being up to speed and all? Jenny, you're doing fine."

Jenny's face registered the barest ripple of emotion.

"Yes, sir."

"Will you quit calling me 'sir'? I'm not your officer. Honestly, people are going to think I beat you or something."

That got him a frosty glance.

"It's a term of respect."

"Not the way you're using it. I don't want you 'respecting' me, I want you to talk to me. Tell me what's going on in that head of yours. I can't help if you won't tell me what's wrong."

She kept her eyes resolutely fixed on the sky. The Doctor glowered at her.

"Enough, Jenny, really. You're acting like a forty-year-old."

"Well I'm not forty!" She whipped to face him, her eyes blazing. "I'm five! No, four. Four years, seven months, twelve days. Maybe if I was forty I'd know what I'm doing! But I'm not! I'm four! And I don't know what's going on half the time, and probably can't understand it anyway. And right now I don't want to worry about it, I just want to look at the stars. So just let it alone, okay?"

The Doctor stared at her, taken aback. "What do you mean, you're not getting it? Jenny, you're-"

She tossed her head, her hair like white flame. "Oh, don't tell me I'm doing fine again. I heard it."

"Then you weren't listening. You have to calm down and listen to me."

"I've been calm."

"No, what you've been is a volcano with ice on top. Now look at me. Look."

She turned eyes on him that burned blue-black, fierce and angry and hurt, too. Her shields were slipping as emotion flooded her mind. The Doctor stared into her eyes, willing her to listen to him.

"I never said that anything's wrong with you. I've never wanted you to believe that."

_But you think there is._

"Nobody thinks that."

_Liar. _Her eyes and her mind were falling open to him, finally allowing him a look. And under the anger and the scorn and the ice, he saw hurt and longing, fear and shame. He saw the thoughts that were beating an incessant tattoo in her head. What he saw shocked him.

"But that's what you've been thinking, isn't it?" He asked, half amazed, "You've been thinking something's wrong with you. Why would you think that you're below par?"

"Stop it!" Jenny tried to raise her shields, glaring back at him. But her emotions made her concentration erratic. The Doctor leaned forward, his eyes deep and wide.

"No, Jenny. Listen to me. I know there are times I get frustrated with you, and there things you can't learn yet, there's a lot that needs work, but you don't need-"

"STOP IT!" Jenny slammed a fist into the seat, then pushed herself off the swing and took off at a dead run, heading for the TARDIS. But he wasn't letting her walk away, not this time. He strode after her.

The TARDIS door banged open before the Doctor touched it, and he strode inside. _I need to see her. Now._

The door of her room was right in front of him, down the first corridor. He opened it, stepping inside. Jenny was standing in the dark, her face to the wall.

"Get. Out."

"No."

"Can't you leave me alone?" Her voice was low, rattling.

"Not until we talk." The Doctor said. He walked into the room, standing just behind Jenny. She remained where she was, eyes riveted on a poster of the Eagle Nebulae.

"I already know what you're going to say."

"Well that's a trick, because _I _don't know what I'm saying half the time. Now I want to talk to you. Properly."

"There's nothing to talk about." She stood stiffly, silver and brittle in the dim light. The Doctor leaned against the wall, watching her still face.

"Oh, I think you're wrong about that. How about telling me why you think something's wrong with you, for starters."

"Because it's obvious. You've made it clear."

"When?"

"Dera sixty-nine. And other times."

"Because I told you to wait?"

"Because you don't trust me." Her voice hitched, about to break.

The Doctor shook his head slightly. "It's not a matter of trust, Jenny. You're a kid, and there are things you don't understand-"

"Then make me understand, goddamit!" she turned eyes like twin tempests on him, boiling with emotion and escaping tears. "I'm tired of not understanding! I'm tired of being a stupid kid! I'm tired of screwing up, tired of being a liability to watch, tired of missing stuff, all the history and the codes and I'm tired of …tired of being…of being…" a sob wracked her chest.

"Of being what?" The Doctor asked softly.

Jenny drew a ragged breath. She brushed angrily at her tear-stained face, staring up at him.

_I'm tired of being an echo._

And then he understood.

"Oh Jenny." He reached out a hand, touching her shoulder. "When I said that, when I met you and realized who you were, I just-" now it was his turn to grope for words. He glanced around the room, then back at Jenny. "I used to have a family. And when I saw you, you looked…you look so much like a daughter I had before. And you looked like every young girl I remembered going to school with for a moment. And it hurt, because I knew you weren't those people. I was angry, and I spoke out of that anger. You don't know how much it hurts to be so _close_ to something, and know you can't really have it." He drew a breath, glancing away.

"Yes I do."

He glanced back at Jenny, giving her a weak, sardonic smile.

"Oh yes? And how would you know that?"

"Because that's…" Jenny swallowed raggedly. "That's how I feel. I see you, working with Time, doing these things, and I'm supposed to be able to do them too and I _can't_. I'm trying, I'm trying all the time and I should be able to and I can't _do it_! I'm not like you, not like the other…the other Time Lords were…not…" Tears glinted on her ivory skin. The Doctor took both her shoulders in his hands, turning her to face him, his eyes like pieces of the night sky.

"Jenny, you don't have to be. You're a _kid._ You said it yourself, you're not even five years old yet. You know how long I went to school for? A hundred and thirty years. It was eighty years before I was out of secondary school. Even by human standards, you're very, very young. You have _so_ much time ahead of you. I never expected you to learn everything in your first year. And not trusting you? I hold you out of a fight because I'm _afraid_ for you. Every time you're in the middle of something I feel my hearts jump into my throat. I hold you back so you won't get hurt. It's not that I don't think you can handle it, it's that I don't want you to have to. I'm old, and I know exactly how dangerous the universe is, and when I see you enter a situation it scares me, scares me like you wouldn't believe. There are so many ways a person can die, so many ways you could die, and I can't help but see them. I've lost a lot of people in my life, Jenny. And I can't stand adding you to the list. I can't." He searched her face. "Don't you see? I hold on to you because I _love_ you." Jenny's eyes widened. But there were still doubts flying around in her mind. What if she wasn't good enough? What if she never measured up to her ancestors, to the people they came from? What if she was still behind in five years, or ten, would he feel the same then? He couldn't believe she could think that.

"Jenny, I don't want you to be a graduate of the Academy or a temporal engineer. Or even a Time Lord. I just want you to be Jenny. Just be my daughter. Start there. All right?"

Slowly, Jenny nodded, her mind awash in shock and confusion. But another emotion was rising. Relief. And then a hesitant tendril of joy. She nodded at him, tears still tracking down her face.

"All right." She breathed.

Then she buried her head in his chest. So he stood there, and held her tight.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Sarah Jane cooked a signature English breakfast the next morning, passing the plates round the table twice. Jenny ate as much as her father did, and today she almost talked as much as he did too. They laughed and grinned, nearly emptied the marmalade jar and bantered over who would get the last piece of bacon. Sarah Jane smiled. Whatever had been wrong, it was certainly put right now. The next three hours flew by, full of jokes and stories and conversation. Soon it was midday, and the Doctor said they'd need to get going.

"If we hurry, there's this quasar about to be born, and they're absolutely magnificent to see. You and Luke want to have a look?"

Sarah Jane smiled, and shook her head.

"Not today. We've got a very odd case of some singing stones off the Dover coast that I promised Luke we'd investigate today."

"Singing stones?" the Doctor quirked an eyebrow. "Sounds rather…" he shook his head. "Nope, none of my business." They stepped out Sarah Jane's front door. Luke and Jenny came up behind them.

"Father, can I show Luke the TARDIS before we go?"

The Doctor considered a moment, then shrugged.

"Well, why not. We've still got time."

Jenny grinned, a lovely expression that lit her face.

"Come on then." Luke followed her, grinning fit to burst as well.

Standing together, the adults watched their children walk away. Sarah Jane sighed happily, and glanced at the sky, which had begun to turn a bit grey.

"Looks like we're in for a bit of a squall."

The Doctor tipped his long, lean body back, staring straight up.

"Ah, yes it does. Good old England, can always trust it for a bit of percipitation. But it'll blow over soon, no doubt."

"Yes." She mused, smiling up at her old friend. "One thing you can say for storms. They always blow over in the end."

The Doctor nodded, and drew a deep breath of the rain-scented air. He smiled, looking over the street.

"That they do."


	16. Clear Skies

**Clear Skies**

Brigadier Sir Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart, retired, had been having a very peaceful morning. He had been sitting with his paper in the garden, enjoying his tea and the sunshine. He hadn't been called on account of an emergency in two days. His wife was out of the house for the morning. He stretched his arms, hanging his cane off the back of his chair. Yes. It was going to be a very quiet day, he had thought.

That was before he heard the noise. _That _noise. It made him sit bolt upright in his chair. The unmistakable sound of-and yes, there it was, materializing just to the left, thank heaven, of Doris's favored begonias. The blue panels glowed in the morning light. And then the door opened.

"Brigadier!"

The Brigadier did not recognize the voice. And yet he did. He did not recognize the tall, lean man with scruffy hair, a poorly buttoned suit and a pair of trainers who came bounding out. And yet he knew exactly who it was. His mustache twitched as he smiled.

"Well, good morning, Doctor! If I hadn't seen a recent photograph of you after that Sontaran debacle I wouldn't have recognized you." He stood stiffly, and looked his oldest friend up and down. "You've gone a bit youngish in this regeneration."

"Really? You think so?" The Doctor flexed a hand in front of his eyes as if checking the fit of an article of clothing.

"Yes, well I guess I did. But I've been younger. Should have seen me when I was blonde." He whirled on the heel of one trainer, facing his ship a moment.

"Jenny! Come on!"

"Jenny." The Brigadier's eyebrows rose. "Your travelling companion of the moment?"  
"Sort of." The Doctor said over his shoulder. He took another step towards his ship. "Jenny-"

"I'm coming."

After a moment, a girl stepped from the TARDIS, adjusting the strap of a satchel over her shoulder and across her chest. And such a girl. Petite, slim, with skin like a china doll and hair like silk. She glanced around, and her wide blue eyes seemed to take in every detail. Then her eyes fell on him. She snapped to attention and threw a very nice salute.

"Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, sir! Pleasure to meet you, sir."

"Stand down, Soldier." The Doctor said, a grin on his rather boyish face. He smiled at the Brigadier, dark eyes sparkling.

"Brigadier, let me introduce you to Jenny. My daughter. Jenny, this is the Brigadier."

The Brigadier was suddenly very glad he'd set down his teacup when he stood.

"Your daughter?"

"The one and only." The girl said, smiling. The Doctor shrugged.

"I might as well tell you lot now, save a lot of confusion later. Thought about keeping it secret, but if she's travelling with me, not much point, is there?"

The Brigadier took a breath. He cleared his throat.

"Well. Pleasure to meet you, young lady. I must say, you learned a salute rather well."

"Thank you, sir."

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Brilliant. Two soldiers I've got on my hands now." But his smile returned with barely a pause. Then his eyes shot to the table.

"Ooh, is that tea, Brig? I'd love a bit of tea!"

Ten minutes later, they each had a full cup of tea.

"So, Doctor." The Brigadier asked, sipping his tea, "What brings you around?"

The Doctor lounged back in his chair, teacup in hand. "Actually, it's a bit of a question. Ooh, good tea. What's the flavor?"

"Orange Pekoe."

The Doctor took another swallow. "Really? Then the pekoe a few centuries from now is rubbish. Had some over in America in twenty-two twenty. Awful stuff."

Jenny smiled over the rim of her mug."Wasn't the time, Father. It was the place. You can't expect decent tea from an American supermarket."

"Don't go getting favoritism for one landmass over another, Jenny. Lot of wars started that way."

The Brigadier cleared his throat.

"I'd make a guess that you didn't come here to discuss tea quality, Doctor."

"Hmm?" The Doctor glanced over the rim of his mug at his friend. He swallowed.

"Oh, right, question. Erm-just wondering…do you still have Bessie?"

The Brigadier's eyebrows rose.

"Bessie?"

"Yes, Bessie. She around anywhere?"  
"In the garage, actually."

The Doctor smiled. "Brilliant."

"Who's Bessie?" Jenny asked.

The Doctor's grin widened. He jumped to his feet, setting down his cup.

"The thing I promised you. Allons-y."

……………………………………………………………………..

The Brigadier pressed the button, bringing the garage door up.

"There she is!" The Doctor said, throwing out a hand with a flourish. Jenny looked from his excited face to the garage.

"It's a car."

"Oh, this is no plain ol' car, Jenny. Did a bit of work on her back in the day."

"Work?"

"Take a look in the engine."

Jenny glanced up at her father, gave a smile, and strode over to the car.

"Interested in mechanics, is she?" The Brigadier asked. The Doctor nodded.

"Interested in everything, really. Anything she gets her hands on she has to understand."  
The Brigadier smiled lightly "Then she is definitely yours."

"Yes, she is." His friend murmured.

"She looks as if she knows what she's doing." The elderly man said, watching the bright girl deftly lift the bonnet and poke her head underneath.

"She's doing all right."

The Brigadier glanced up at the Doctor. Too bad that he was quite a bit taller now. His face was calm and relaxed, a small smile on his lips.

"And you, old man?"  
The Doctor glanced at him absently.

"Me? What about me?"

"Are you doing well?"

The Doctor gave him a disparaging perusal, looking for a moment much as he had when he was his old, irascible self.

"I'm fine, Alastair. Really, does everyone have to ask me that?"

"Yes." The Brigadier said quietly, "Since you never answer the question properly. I'd very much like decent reply."

The Doctor shrugged. "I'm doing fine. Really, I mean it. It's been better of late." He looked back at his daughter.

"A lot better." Then he smiled at the Brigadier, a real smile, full of excitement and a bit of pride. "Actually, it's been a whole _lot_ better."

The Brigadier nodded slightly. That was a smile that the old officer had rarely seen. "Good, then."

Jenny's voice came floating from behind the bonnet.

"Father! You added _that _to a _combustion engine_?!"

The Doctor grinned.

"Thought she'd like this. I explained a combustion engine to her, but you really have to see some things for yourself to understand them."

"Hmf. You explained a combustion engine to her, and she already understands the workings." The Brigadier leaned on his cane. "I shudder to think what else you've been teaching her."

"Anything and everything, Brig. Anything and everything. Sometimes she picks up things I didn't know I was teaching. There's a lot she has to learn. A few things I have to learn too, I suppose, always a surprise that. And the minute she hears about something she wants to try it."

"Is that what you came for?"

"Mostly. I made a bit of a promise, and now I suppose I'll have to be keeping it."

"Promise?"

The Doctor sighed heavily. "I made the stupendous and monumental blunder of telling her that I'd teach her to drive a car. With all I did to her, Bessie is the most indestructible vehicle I know. I only hope she's up to it. Hope I'm up to it."

The Brigadier almost smiled at the hopeless expression lining the older man's face. "Driving a car should be simple compared to what you get up to."

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "You've never seen the way Jenny shuttle-pilots. If she drives the same way…"

Jenny shut the hood. The Doctor switched on his bright smile as his daughter came jogging over.

"Ready?"

Jenny grinned, her face alight. "Oh I'm ready!" She glanced at the Brigadier, who held out the key.

The Doctor shot another look at his friend.

"Well, we'll be back in a bit, then." He dropped his voice as Jenny jogged to the driver's side, muttering "Wish me luck."

The Brigadier watched the two Time Lords climb into the car. The Doctor rolled down his window, and the Brigadier could hear his voice.

"Right, Jenny, this is a bit simpler than a hover vehicle in some ways, but in some ways it's more complicated. You have to factor in friction and drag from the contact of the wheels on the road, and the stopping distance is a lot longer. Now, that's the gearshift, you pull it into each of these positions in turn as your speed increases. That pedal's the clutch; you push it down when you shift. That's the brake, and that's the gas. The wheel is pretty responsive, but not as much as a kereche, so be careful. First, just get the feel of it."

"Right."

"Go ahead and start, then put it in reverse. The position marked R, there."

The little yellow car revved to life.

"Okay, push the gas very, very slowl-" the car shot backwards.

"_Slowly_, Jenny!"

"That was slowly!"

"No, that was kamikaze! It needs only a little pressure-right, good- okay, turn the wheel-a bit more-not that much more! Okay, good, good, now just lightly press the gas-lightly! Push it lightly, thanks, I like my face the way it is and I'm not interested in regenerating any time soon! Okay, good, good, out onto the street, stay on this side of the white lines, and watch for other cars-okay…_Jen-ny_!"

Bessie peeled out of the Brigadier's driveway. Standing tall and straight in front of his home, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart smiled. It was going to be a good day.


	17. Words

**Words**

They'd finally made their way to Woman Wept. The sun shone down on waves that towered over their heads, shooting rays of icy light and diffracting rainbows from their surface. Jenny had spent twenty minutes in absolute wonder before she'd started conversing again. It was just too _beautiful_ to talk while she was looking at this.

"Jenny?"

She turned away from the fish that swam beneath the ice in the wave towering above her, glancing at her father.

"Hunh?"

"Remember that talk we were having about interspatial and inter-Vortex physics?"

"Yep."

"You want to finish it?"

Her eyes lit up. "Yeah! But you said it was going to have to wait."

"Well we can't finish it this _second_." The Doctor said lightly. The cool wind brushed the dark thatch of his hair back from his face, and he drew a deep, clean breath.

"I was thinking about the lesson I ought to have given with you before I started on that. I went a bit in circles with you, and I need to go back to the basics. It shouldn't take us too long, though. Fancy a language lesson?"  
Jenny cocked her head, her hair bleached almost silver by the cool light.

"Language lesson? But the TARDIS translates everything."

"Mm, not exactly. Some things just aren't going to come through the language circuits properly. Got too many nuances to translate into the Basic languages, or any of the Earth languages." His eyes roved nervously as he talked, hands buried in the pockets of his greatcoat. "Oh, I can get my point across for conversation most of the time. Even some basic science and mathematic models, those come across, essentially anyway. But if you go any deeper than that, get into any of the really interesting science or pretty much anything important in temporal work, or even higher chemistry if it comes to that, I can't simplify it enough, and without the proper precision and nuance of language available to me it'll be like teaching you to drive a car without using the words 'clutch,' 'brake' or 'wheel'. And that's not very workable. So, upshot of all that-" He drew a breath, bringing his eyes to hers with a tentative half-smile. "You want to learn Gallifreyan?"

She started with a pile of books.

"Now it's not going to be easy to learn." Her father had warned her, "Most Gallifeyan kids were three, sometimes four before we learned to speak it properly, and that's hearing it every day from the moment you're Loomed. It's very complex, extremely detailed and precise. And it's concept-based, not sound-based. And there's the four-dimensional grammar too. So, don't worry if it takes a bit to cotton on to, all right?" There was encouragement in his eyes. But Jenny could see nervousness there too.

Jenny started reading. She could read a lot faster than most, something about the way her eyes processed the information her father had said. And it was a good thing, because she had a lot of reading to do. She finished the books. Then she re-read them. She started to get an idea of why she needed to learn it; Gallifreyan was a language that allowed for every nuance of idea, thought, composition and emotion to be put into words. It was clear, precise, and mathematical in its structure, making speech sound a bit like music. And the verb-forms were going to make talking over temporal subjects a lot easier. There were specific verb structures for things that other languages didn't even begin to cover, special tenses for things that happened in relative past and personal future or vice versa, words that described mental or emotional states she'd never seen accurately expressed before. Jenny hunted up conversations to listen to on the data banks, and she read everything she could get her hands on. There was an awful lot to take in.

Two weeks later, she was sprawled in the library, headphones over her ears as she listened to a conversation. Her head came up when she caught her father's sense. She glanced behind her. He was standing behind her. She'd been concentrating so hard that she hadn't noticed him.

"How're you getting on?"

"Pretty well." She pushed herself to her feet. "You were right, it's involved. But I think I'm getting it."

He nodded, eyes studying. "Really?"

She nodded. "The basic structure anyway."

The Doctor smiled. "Well, that's a good start. A very very good start. And the more you use it the more you'll get to know it, y'know. Best way to learn a language, immersing yourself in it. So, how confident do you feel, really?"

Jenny considered. "About…seventy percent confident, I suppose. Sufficiently fluent to understand most of the conversation."

He nodded again. "Good! Really good. What do you say to some practical experience then? I'll turn off the lingual circuits for a bit, and we can see how we get on. Sound all right?"

Jenny's her face set. "Mm…Yes." Unconsciously, her body became taunt, readying itself for a fight. Her father fleetingly considered telling her to relax. But it wouldn't help much. So he only drew a breath and closed his eyes, making the necessary adjustments through the link to his ship. Then he spoke.

Jenny cocked her head, her smooth brow furrowing. She'd caught about half of that sentence. He was asking her if she remembered where all these books strewn across the floor had come from. She answered him carefully in the positive, and he smiled.

"Good. Then let's put the books back in the blank with the blank-blank." She didn't get his next sentence at all.

_Okay, maybe not seventy percent. Maybe fifty._

After three hours, she thought maybe it was more like thirty percent. She was fighting to understand, fighting to keep up with him. He watched her, his eyes hopeful. But she felt like she was losing the fight.

"That's probably enough for now." He said after another two hours. Jenny nodded, mortified at the swell of relief that washed through her when she heard Artemesia Basic. She hoped she'd shielded that at least.

It was like that all week. And all the next week too. Every time they talked in Gallifreyan she fought to understand, fought to follow his conversation. He made it sound so _easy_, dropping into the language like a stone into water. His English accent fell away like it had never existed, and the words poured out. It didn't help that he talked about a mile a minute. It was his native language, she told herself that. But it still got to her. And she could see the worry in his eyes, almost feel the disappointment. She had to get better at this. She had to work harder, she must not be working hard enough. She had to try.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

She was trying. But she treated the whole thing less like a lesson and more like a battle. It was her greatest weakness as a student. The Doctor could feel her thinking about it all the time, feel her frustration every time she used the wrong word, every time she couldn't find a phrase. She was trying almost too hard, yelling at herself inside her head when she made an error. It was becoming a constant undercurrent in her mind. And it was going the same way for him. Thoughts chased themselves around in his head.

Maybe he had pushed it too hard. He had told it that it was essential to her studies and it was. But she was taking it so seriously. She'd been trying for two weeks. Then three. She was improving. But so _slowly._

Was this normal? How could he know? Normal was an impossible definition with her. He felt so uncertain with her sometimes, never sure where he could start. He didn't know her limits or abilities, not really. Genetically she was predisposed to high intelligence and memory retention. But the Machine that made her had put things in her head. He was still fighting that soldier programming. What if it had done something to her speech or learning centers? What if she didn't have the mental ability to learn such a complex language?

But he had learned one thing about teaching his daughter. It took patience. He had to have a bit of patience. Just give it time, encourage her, keep practicing.

He found other things to show her. Anything else. New planets, new cultures, new technologies. He made light of the language practice.

And slowly, she improved. Her speech grew faster, more fluid. He left the lingual circuits off for incrementally longer periods. Another month passed. Now they were laughing and bantering in his own language. He taught her jokes that only made sense in Gallifeyan. He turned the lingual circuits off without telling her, and she barely noticed. In the mornings she'd sing sometimes, and the lilting words would roll down the corridors, high and light and lovely; Gallifreyan with a funny hint of English accent. Patience. It had been worth it.

……………………………………………………………………………..

Jenny was singing as she pulled a cup down from the cabinet. She lifted the kettle from the stove, poured it over the tea. Warmth rippled in the back of her head.

"Good morning, Father." She used a familiar version of the word, the one that implied they were friends as well as parent and child. She turned, smiling at him where he leaned against the door frame.

"Like a cup?'

"Yes, thanks. Love a bit of tea in the morning."

She turned, moving quickly from the refrigerator for the milk and back to the cabinet. The cup rattled ominously as she bumped it with her elbow, but she caught it before it splashed. She fell back into song as she worked, the quick bright words running over her tongue. She loved the song, a piece about birds that soared between silver-leaved trees. It was actually a duet, and she liked the other half of it too, but she stuck to the female part.

Hot water splashed into the cup. Jenny dropped into the chorus.

A bright tenor suddenly rose behind her, a little cracked, but carrying the male part in grand style. Tea slopped as she turned. Singing. Her father was _singing_.

Jenny took a breath and joined him at the right moment, matching tones and emotions. Their voices, neither perfect, somehow blended together in a lovely melody.

They finished the song together. Her father grinned, his eyes sparkling. In her head she described exactly the pride, joy, and excitement she could see on his face, what he was letting her feel, and the emotion it brought out in her. Because now she had the words to do it.


	18. Getting Technical

**Getting Technical**

Jenny's next lesson on the TARDIS was technical. She spent all her spare time in the second library, studying blueprints and poring over a set of hologram projections she'd found in a little box stuck between the books. Every time she returned to the shelf, she seemed to find new information. Jenny drilled herself on the components and their functions. When she worked with her father, her mind ran over the action of everything they worked on. Of course, her father's TARDIS didn't match the blueprints too well. Some components were missing, some were substituted with bits and pieces of other things, and some of the workings had been rewired; they were so different from the plans that she barely recognized them. Yet she was learning all the time.

A few weeks later, she stood in front of the console, her back to the doors.

"See if I get this right."

Her father leaned back against one of the columns, smiling slightly.

"Shoot."

Jenny pointed at the first trapezoidal panel of the console. "This one houses the navigation and steering controls. Here we can set the course and push the ship in or out of the Vortex. Materialize and dematerialize."

Moving clockwise, she patted the trim of the next panel. "This one has the switch that opens and closes the doors, and here are the controls for the scanner. Oh, and here are the advanced navigational controls and the defense controls, shields and stuff."

She moved to the next panel. "Here's the communications circuits, life support and lighting controls, and all the room controls…the architectural configuration unit, I mean. This one has the computer and databanks. This next one…here's the readouts of external and internal environmental conditions, stuff like radiation, humidity, nitrogen and oxygen levels, right next to the gravitational and directional controls. And this last one gives the power status, power controls, activates the energy-absorption conduits and… brings the auxiliary power from generators and batteries, and has outlets for all the other equipment."

She circled the console again, pointing at the pedestal that supported the console.

"There's the catch that gives direct access to the Heart, there's the panels that let you into the stabilization circuits. Intake chute for the fluid links, dynamic harmonizers, force-field generators, main helmic regulator, gravimetric reroute and thrusters, fault locator, and the lubrication areas for the rotor..."

She turned, her eyes wide.

_He hasn't said a word. Did I do all right?_

He was grinning from ear to ear.

"Absolutely, perfectly and in all respects, brilliant! You've got it down pat!"

Jenny smiled. Crossing her arms, she cocked her head.

"So can I start driving alone now?"

The Doctor's eyebrows shot up.

"What?!"


	19. Sights

**Sights**

"Jenny! Jenny, come on! You have _got _to see this!" He grabbed her hand, and pulled her down the corridor.

"What's going on?"

"You just have to see this! You'll love it! Come on!"

They barreled into the console room. "Hit the shield-projection valve, third setting!" Jenny pushed down the lever. Her father grinned, grabbed her hand and pulled her down the ramp. With a flourish, he flung open the door.

They had materialized in an area of space alive with stars, dusted with billions upon billions of lights like chips of silver scattered into the black of space. Just ahead a gas-giant was silhouetted by its star, a crescent of white brilliance that peeked over the rim of the planet and set blue-white fire to its rings. The light radiated from the star in waves of luminous blue, never fading, picking out two more planets against its bright backdrop. The light seemed permanent, almost solid, waves upon waves fanning out from the radiant heart.

"Oh!" Jenny stared, her eyes absorbing every detail. The rings of the nearest planet glowed with a shifting, pearly opalescence, gossamer bands of light fluctuation that surrounded the dark bulk of the world. Starfire rippled and danced through the system, never fading, a perfect sapphire in the black velvet of space.

"They call it Rhea Forty-Two in the data bank." Her father said softly. "But the neighbors a few systems over call it the Blue Homecoming. There's so much dust in this section of space that the light from the star is constantly reflected, caught and held. You can see it from six hundred thousand miles, and its light, they say it reaches out to guide travelers."

Jenny stared, her whole body leaned forward in the thrall of the sight. "It's so…_so_ beautiful."

"Isn't it just." The Doctor stared out the door, wonder in his eyes, watching the light dance and ripple. He reached out, took his daughter's hand, and stepped off the lintel. Jenny had stepped out the door before she'd realized it, entranced by the glow. She let out a surprised laugh when she did glance down, down into the endless stars.

""What are we standing on?"

"Momentarily frozen and spatially stabilized gasses, dust and spatial effluvium. The TARDIS will stabilize a path for us for about ten feet out." Her father rattled off. Then he glanced at her, and gave a small, cheeky smile. "Or you could say you're standing on stardust."

He stepped forward, and his daughter followed, holding his hand. They walked to the edge of the force field together, Jenny alternately staring down into the whirl of star-flecked space and the perfection of blue light playing across the rings of the gas-giant like aurora borealis. She wanted to drink in the sight and hold it forever. There was such wonder in this, a moment like this.

The Doctor drew a deep breath. This was why he traveled. Never mind the fighting and threats to existence and the petty little battles. When wonder like _this_ could be found just about anywhere, you had to go everywhere, look for it, find it and see the beauty.

His daughter's face shone like one of the stars in the ever-changing light, her face full of wonder and ecstasy, mirroring her father's. _This _was worth fighting for. Worth living for.

Hand in hand, two small beings stood among the stars, and watched a sun rise in space.


	20. Stories

**Stories**

The lighting circuits in the first library had been turned down, leaving the room a maze of towering shadows and dark canyons. The Doctor strolled between the shelves. From time to time he'd run a hand over the spine of a particularly good tome. He ought to be getting something done under the console. He'd meant to pop in here, grab a schematic and get to work. But now he was mildly curious. Why had Jenny turned the lights off in here? He had felt her presence when he stepped inside. What was she doing, alone, in the library, in the dark?

He followed his senses between the shelves. The dark wood of the library floor creaked under his trainers. It really never changed in here. Always the mahogany and squashy armchairs and the smell of books, no matter what the rest of the ship looked like.

There was light reflecting on to the shelves just to the left. The Doctor followed it, hands in his pockets. In a cubby carved out of the dark mahogany and shelves, a fire was crackling in a small fireplace. Jenny was before it, curled up on a settee, a book in her hands. The firelight cast its warm glow over the scene as the girl turned a page, silhouetted in black and gold. She turned her head.

"Hello, Father."

The Doctor walked into the little nook.

"Didn't expect to find you in here."

"I wanted to sit by the fire for a bit." She said, eyes on the page of her book. "Feels good to be warm and dry again."

"Mm." the Doctor agreed, taking a seat, "That orbiting moon was a bit…squelchy."

"More than a bit." Jenny commented dryly, turning the page.

"What have you got there?"

Jenny glanced up. "Pictures. It's a picture almanac. And the photography is really good."

"Of which planet?"

"Don't know. There isn't any writing. Just pictures. Did your coat dry out?"

"Oh yes. Tip top shape again."

Jenny nodded, her eyes on the pictures. The Doctor leaned back. The fire light did feel remarkably good on his face. He sat, content in the silence and the half-light. There was the sound of fire crackling, pages turning, and the underlying hum of the TARDIS, barely a whisper beneath his feet. The light threw shadows and highlights across the encircling shelves as the fire danced.

"Father?"

"Hmm?"

"Who's Rassilon?"

The Doctor's dark eyes shot to his daughter's face.

"Where did you get that name?" His voice was sharp in the quiet.

"From reading." She patted the little tower of books that sat on the floor, leaning against the settee for support.

"There's a couple of books where they keep saying stuff like 'by Rassilon' and 'in Rassilon's name.' Is he a god?"

The Doctor smiled wryly, his eyes dropping to his clasped hands. "No. Some people said he was. But no. Rassilon was…just a load of old history. Nothing very interesting."

"Nothing interesting?" Jenny sat up. "Why wouldn't I be interested?"

The Doctor leaned back, staring into the fire.

"It's rather boring. And not very important now. "

"Is it your history?" Jenny ventured. "From where you came from?" Her father glanced at her, his eyes dark.

"Yes."

"Then I want to learn it." Her voice was quiet in the warm stillness. The Doctor glanced away. The fire crackled, shadows cast by its flames outlining the hollows of his cheeks.

"Was Rassilon a Gallifreyan god?" Jenny asked into the silence. Her father shook his head slightly.

"No. Like I said, he wasn't a god. He was…part of a story. Part of a very long history. But really, honestly, it isn't very interesting."

Jenny set her book aside. "Tell me. If I'm bored I'll say so."

He gave her a small smile.

"You would, wouldn't you?"

"Of course."

He sighed deeply, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, there's a lot of history. Quite a lot. Ages of it, really." He watched the fire light play across the walls, his head tilting back. "There's about three shelves of books over in the north-west quadrant written by Marnal Gates." He said softly. "If you read those, they pretty much chronicle all the historical stuff, a lot of culture and ideology too. Good things, those books, though trying to sort through it all really will make your head ache, mind you. Go ahead and read them, and then you can ask me anything you want. Always nice to know your roots, I suppose. Can't see where you're going if you don't know where you've been. Nieche said that. Or was it Twain? Maybe they both did."

He glanced down, his eyes falling on the book on Jenny's lap. A book marked with the Omniscate. He moved closer to his daughter, taking the book from the crook of her elbow.

"You said you didn't know what this is?"

"No." Jenny said, her eyes quizzical. "Do you?"

"Mm-hmm." The picture on the first page showed a clear, cold morning in the seventh season, white snow tinged gold by the light of the suns. Prydos glowed beneath its glassy shell.

"This is a book showing images of historical sites. This is in here because it's-because it was one of the oldest cities. And this was the tallest mountain. Mount Cadon."

Jenny was still staring at him.

"What else?"

He glanced at her, sitting there, bright and curious and waiting. He swallowed, glancing back at the book as his long fingers flicked the pages. The Capitol. Lune Forest. He had taken his wife to the forest when they'd first been Promised. Another page. Another memory. Page upon page. Maybe he shouldn't turn them. He didn't want to run into any pictures of the Citadel or the Soonwell Valley. Too many memories there.

He stared into the fire. It all held too many memories, really. Those places were gone, and those people. A part of him was gone with them. Exhuming their pictures and tales was like irritating an amputation wound.

And yet…

Jenny's head cocked as she watched him, her face half-illumined in the ruddy light, glowing like white gold

And yet…

The Doctor drew a deep breath, and turned to face his daughter.

"Okay. Get comfortable."

Jenny adjusted her legs, and watched him expectantly. The Doctor crossed his legs in front of him, taking the book up again, flipping a few pages. He held the book between them, showing a rocky field under a clear orange sky.

"It started here." He began quietly. "Long, long ago, when humans were still funny little lemurs and the Medusa Cascade was a forming cloud of gas, before we truly understood time, before we were even really Time Lords, there was a man. His name was Rassilon. And there was a war. The First great Time War. A war the people of Gallifrey brought down on themselves. Those were the Dark Times. Many people died. Millions. And when that war was over, something new started. A new people were born. You see, the man called Rassilon… " His voice curled quietly through the room, tales mixing into the shadows and the firelight, weaving millennia of shared history, shared suffering, and eons of knowledge.


	21. Terms

**Terms**

He calls her Soldier. The name is everything from a private joke to a rebuke.

"Good work, Soldier." When she'd deciphered the hand-signals on Hasl 9.

"Bad move, Soldier." When she'd accidentally tripped the guiding mechanism on that bomb. "Run!"

"Think, Soldier!" He nearly shouts at times, "Use your head!"

"Aren't you just the soldier." He'd said bitterly when he'd caught up to her on the water-covered planet, about to fire her weapon. The woman she'd been aiming at had killed dozens of people. And yet her father had cut her to the core with that phrase, made her lower her weapon with it. The fight ended on that rock. But not with a bullet.

Sometimes he calls her Kid. It usually means that he's very amused, or very cross.

"You idiotic kid!!!" he had yelled as they ran. She'd insulted a gang of pirates, and they wanted blood in recompense.

"Crazy kid." He'd laughed the first time she'd had an ice-cream cone in the park. Ice-cream was delicious, but the cones were pretty impractical. She'd ended up smeared with the stuff. To be fair, so had he.

Once, he had called her _taruelai._ She'd been in her room, in bed. The quiet energy of his presence had pulled her from sleep. He'd leaned against the doorframe for so long that she'd nearly drifted off again. Then he'd whispered.

"Good night, _lah taruelai._"

The words had been the barest hush of air. But she'd heard.

_Taruelai_. A concept word. My offspring. My child. One I cherish and nurture. One I would give life to defend.

Jenny is a soldier. She's born to it, proud of it.

Jenny is a kid. Her father said she would be for a good two hundred years.

And now, she is her father's daughter. Now, she is _taruelai._


	22. Appellations

**Appellations**

When she calls him Sir, she's upset. He hates to hear "Yes, sir."

When she calls him Father, it's business as usual. He's grown to expect a bright 'hello, Father' when he walks into the kitchen for breakfast. When he calls her, 'yes, Father' floats down the corridors.

Sometimes, she calls him Old Man, despite his protests. He's only middle-aged, after all. When she's in high spirits she dashes into the console room and pokes herself into his work, looking at him upside-down as he works in one of the under-stories of the TARDIS, her white-blonde hair swinging. "Hello, Old Man!"

In danger or negotiations, she uses his name. It's strange to have his own child call out "Doctor!" But not everyone they meet needs to know what she is to him.

She had called him Dad the day she was born. And she's never used it again. Why he notices that he doesn't know. A Gallifreyan child usually addressed parents in formal, proper names, names that encompassed the respect of the child for their elders. Father was actually rather informal by Gallifreyan standards.

But Jenny isn't a Gallifreyan child. Jenny is _his_ daughter. All the rules are out the window in her case.

And he is her dad.


	23. Object Lesson

**Object Lesson**

"Mm-mmed-ed-dical kit, n-nn-now…"

"You licked it! You bloody licked it!!" Jenny barreled into the console room, her father's shaking arm over her shoulder, half dragging him as she ran towards the med-bay.

"N-nnn-neuro-"

"Neuromuscular toxin! I know! And you _had _to lick it, didn't you. Just had to."

"J-jjjen-nn-y-"

"Oh, don't talk. Sit here. Med kit, okay, white, green crescent, right…here!" She pulled the box out, whirling on her heel. She worked quickly, glancing at her father.

"I can't believe you licked it! Are you insane?! Hold on, have to mix these doses…"

"J-jjenn-nny-" The Doctor stuttered out between chattering teeth, "I-ifff-iff I-ifff-"  
"You're not going to die, Father, so you don't need to tell me what to do if you regenerate. Got it!" Jenny turned, pulled up the Doctor's sleeve, clamped a hand on his trembling arm, and injected the serum. Then she stood back, watching with anxious eyes.

"Father?"

He was still spasming, his breathing ragged. Jenny dropped to her knees beside the bed.

"Father. Breathe. Come on." She grabbed his clawed hand in her own.

Slowly, the hand relaxed. The twitches running along the Doctor's body slowed, then ceased. He slumped forward, his chest heaving.

"Well! That…was unpleasant. Good job…you grabbed…the serum." He gave her a small, unsteady grin.

"Lesson…for you… Jenny. Don't…assume…you know what's going on. It's…it's a costly mistake." He shook his head, his wild dark hair standing on end.

"Whew! Remind me not to do _that_ again any time soon!"

"Again?!" Jenny stared at him for a moment, incredulous. "You should have been smart enough not to do it in the _first _place."

"Only a bit of analysis, Jenny. Usually one of the best tools of analysis, taste. Another lesson."

"Then that's four." Jenny muttered.

"What?"

"Lay back, Father. You need to rest."

"Oh tosh. 'M fine! Fit as a fiddle!" The Doctor pushed himself to his feet-wobbled a bit-and grinned. "See? Poison's being dismantled in my system as we speak. No problem. Now, four lessons. What's the third and fourth?"

Jenny glanced away, setting the medical kit to rights. She couldn't help the smile that sneaked across her lips.

"If it's not food, don't lick it. Even if it looks innocuous."

"Oh I don't know about that. Just have to keep an eye on what you're working with. So what's the fourth?"

Jenny shook her head, her smile widening. The Doctor paced over to her, curious.

"Well? What else did you learn?"

She glanced up at him, her eyes sparkling.

"You don't just muck up when you're young. Even the very smart, and old, and experienced, can do something _really _stupid."

The Doctor opened his mouth. He paused. Thought.

"Yes, actually that's rather true. Actually very true." Then he glanced at his daughter in surprise. She was leaning against the table, her shoulders quivering silently.

"Jenny? Are you laughing?"


	24. Getting to Drive

**Getting to Drive**

Jenny's lessons on the TARDIS are becoming practical. She can feel the TARDIS now. It's always there in the back of her head, soft sensations of doubt or comfort, annoyance or pride. It's like having another parent, this one in her mind.

She's really getting into the works. Checking the hadron crystals for cracks. Helping to wire the circuits, replace fluid links, check dampers and stabilizers in the understory. Fix thrusters. Even work with a few of the temporal circuits at her father's side. Sometimes she can feel something, when she's working on them. Something on the edge of her vision, just beyond her reach. Sometimes she can just catch a glimpse of Time. Almost. She'll grow into it. She can't wait for that.

They move in a steady rhythm when they're traveling, used to working together. He still looks at her sometimes as if she's glass, tries to guide her hands. But he just wants to protect her. She can live with that.

He let her make a landing a while ago. It wasn't pretty. But he let her try again. And again. She slowly pulls down the handbrake, tilts the stabilizer matrix with two fingers, materializing the ship smoothly. It settles with a soft 'woosh', the rotor stilling.

"Great!" her father exclaims, "You're getting good at that."

"Thanks." Jenny sets one more stabilizer, then looks up.

"How long did it take you to learn this?"

"In theory or practice?" the Doctor asks, striding across the room to pull his coat from the hat rack.

"In practice. The actual driving."

"Somewhere around…I think it was nine years, 'course that was after I'd learned all the basics on temporal functions. It would have taken less time, 'cept they failed me the first time 'round."

"They what?!" Jenny's dark eyes go wide, half shocked and half laughing. The Doctor turns, shrugging into his coat.

"Failed me. First time around I did a bit…" he makes a so-so gesture with his hand. "Had to test on a type Nintey, which was bad from the start, and ol' Borusa was only too pleased to give me the fail. But, got me extra practice, made me better at it I suppose."

"You actually failed?!"

His face takes on a slightly offended look. "Well, just goes to show what humble beginnings genius can rise from. Late bloomer, that's all."

"Late bloomer?"

"Yup."

Jenny pulls her satchel from the rack. _Then maybe I'll be blooming late too._

"So can I try piloting in the Vortex next?"

Her father's head shoots up. Alarm thrills through her mind, intermingled with a ripple of amusement from the TARDIS.

"Ah, not just yet. Like I said, practice…"

Then he's out the door. Jenny snorts her annoyance. But she follows her father. She has years to learn.


	25. A Rest

**A Rest**

Leaning against each other, Jenny and the Doctor stumbled through the TARDIS door.

"Like I said…" Jenny murmured softly, "never… do…that… again."

"Too right." The Doctor muttered in reply. They'd gone eight days without sleep. Eight days. That was a bit much, even for them. He took Jenny's arm carefully, avoiding the burns that peppered her skin.

"Let's get off our feet. Med bay, I think. C'mon, not far."

Walking slowly, they made their way to the opposite door. The Med Bay was the first door on the left. The Doctor pushed it open with a sigh of relief. Leading Jenny to the main bed, he let go of her arm.

"Take a load off for a mo, I'll get us fixed up."

"I'm fine, let me-"

"Just for once let me act the parent, will you? Sit still." He pulled a small cylinder from a drawer.

"These are nasty unusual burns, the usual dermal repairs won't do the trick. Let's just get this salve on."

Pulling the cylinder open, he applied the primary layer, then the secondary salve, on the largest burn across Jenny's bicep. The salves combined on contact, shading the skin an interesting green, but he could see it beginning to knit. He nodded to himself.

"There. Let that sit for a bit. Budge up." He took a seat beside his daughter, muscles screaming. He had to admit, sitting down felt _so_ good.

"How bad is that one on your back?" Jenny asked quietly.

"Oh, not bad. But you can give me a hand with it, 'cause it's going to sting like mad. We can get each other doctored up."

"Not much we can do for your hair though." Jenny said, wincing as she bent her right leg. The Doctor glanced up from the burn on her wrist.

"What's wrong with my hair?"

Jenny giggled. "It's been all singed on the left side."

Surprised, the Doctor ran fingers through his hair. Bits of ash came away in his hand. "Ah. Nope, nothing we can do about that. Ah well. I was due for a trim, I s'pose."

With small winces and gasps, they treated the dozens of burns that ran over their upper bodies and the soles of their feet. The Doctor sat back, flinching as he pulled on his rather hole-filled shirt.

"There's that then. Better sit here for a bit an' let that work."

"Yes Father." Jenny said softly. She leaned against his shoulder.

For a moment, father and daughter leaned against each other, content in warm exhaustion. The Doctor could hear Jenny's slow breathing. He sighed. So tired.

"Next time we go to a fire festival," Jenny murmured, "Let's not do one with sacrifices."

"Right. Got you a chance to show off, though."

She snorted against his shoulder.

"Defensive tactics. Not showing off."

"You say potatoe, I say potato." The Doctor quipped.

"Hmm?"

He shook his head slightly.

"Never mind. How's that leg?"

"Functional."

"Good."

Jenny's head nodded further into the fabric of his shirt.

"Father?"

"Hmm?"

"You trusted me. Out there. To act on my own. To get it…you know."

The Doctor smiled down at the bright top of Jenny's head. "'Course I did. And you got everyone loose. I know I can pretty much trust you. You've proven that."

Jenny's hearts beat a slow percussion tattoo against his side. He could feel muscles slowly loosening, relaxing from the days of strain. A good hot shower would help the process along later. But right now, he had no inclination to move whatsoever. Tomorrow he would feel terrible, and he would need to take care of quite a lot. But just here, just now, the world was warm and close and safe.

"Thanks Dad." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

The Doctor's eyes widened._ She called me Dad! _He turned his head, opening his mouth to reply. But Jenny's eyes were closed. His daughter was fast asleep on his shoulder.

He sat for a long moment, holding open heavy eyelids to watch her. For all that she could be maddening, terrifying, make him feel like his hearts were going to stop on a regular basis, she looked so peaceful when her eyes were closed. The Doctor smiled slightly. Tomorrow, they could face the universe. Tonight they would sleep. His head rested on hers, dark against bright.

"G'night, Jenny."

**Author's Note: And that sums up the first year. Thanks to everyone for the reviews.**

**Otter**


End file.
